


Under a Black Flag

by PessoasLily



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Child Abandonment, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt Jared Padalecki, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Foster Care system, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Sexual Content, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, Top Jensen Ackles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-10-25 19:46:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 33
Words: 70,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10771167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PessoasLily/pseuds/PessoasLily
Summary: Jensen Ackles is a corporate raider that has everything he wants. His massive fortune guarantees he can buy anything and anyone because everything has a price.Enter Jared Padalecki - a victim of Jensen's unscrupulous business practices. After Jensen bankrupts Jared's family, Jared is less than receptive to Jensen's advances. When all of Jensen's attempts are rebuffed, Jensen resorts to the pirate's creed. If you want something someone else has, steal it.





	1. Chapter 1

Jensen Ackles was a thief. A good thief. And the most remarkable thing about his crimes was that so many of them were completely legal.

They call him a corporate raider. He buys majority stock in struggling companies for well under market value, creates the illusion that he’s trying to help them become profitable while running a thorough inventory of assets. When the company fails, as it was meant to, he scraps it for parts, getting a full return on his original investment plus a hefty chunk of change. It’s like a giant choreographed car crash where nobody lives but the doctor still gets paid. If this were the high seas he’d sail under a black flag.

The owners lose. The employees lose. The communities lose. And Jensen always wins.

He should feel guilty but he doesn’t. A man killed himself after Jensen raided the company that had been in the man’s family for generations. Jensen attended the funeral, consoled the grieving widow and sent a large bouquet to her house. He later took a tax write-off for the flowers. They were a business expense, after all.

This kind of bloodless barbarity made him filthy rich and he loved every second of it.

It made his life comfortable.

He has several houses all over the world, his own plane and helicopter, a yacht he grew bored with and sunk for the insurance, and a fully stocked private island. He figured the island would be a good parachute in case morality and common decency ever found their way into the high stakes world of corporate takeovers.

He has cars, clothes, jewelry and a string of bitter ex-lovers who thought they were marrying up instead of being rented.

He has no family, few acquaintances outside of work, and no friends. He likes it this way.

He’s been given so many humanitarian awards for his tax deductible charitable donations that he’s begun to use them as targets at his shooting range. People who don’t know him love him, people who do know him wish they’d never met him.

It’s a good life.

So, like all bad men who can have everything they want, Jensen found himself obsessed with something, specifically someone, who thought he was nothing more than a manipulative rich asshole.

Jared wasn’t wrong.

Jared Padalecki made the mistake of a lifetime when he attended a fundraiser for kids or dolphins or the environment. Jensen can’t remember and doesn’t care. One of his simpering colleagues put them on regularly to make herself feel better about having so much shit she didn’t earn and doesn’t deserve.

Jared was attending the function with his girlfriend, a sweet but incipient social climber that came from just enough money to embarrass herself. She dressed Jared up in an ill fitting tuxedo and scuffed opera pumps. He wore gold plated cufflinks and a Sears watch. If it weren’t so pathetic it might have been funny. Jared stood out like he was on fire, and his oblivious girl paraded him around like a prize winning show pony.

The most shocking thing was how people took to him in spite of his garish ensemble. His tall athletic build and suntanned skin, dimpled smile with perfect straight white teeth, made the women cream themselves at the chance to have such a man at their beck and call. The men were no less affected. Gay or straight, Jensen watched them flock to the young man like carrion birds at a roadkill feast.

Jensen kept his distance and watched. Jared played the crowd perfectly. Humble, self-effacing with just enough innocent humor that the usually snobbish horde couldn’t look away. It was not unlike staring into the sun. In a room full of people with money to burn, they salivated over all the possibilities he represented with his homespun charm.

Jared was 22, pre law at Stanford. There on scholarship. He and Jess met at a rally for the Human Rights Campaign and had been dating a year. When asked if marriage was in their future, Jared blushed and looked uncomfortable. Jess looked like she just bagged a bear and was getting ready to mount him on her wall.

Women casually touched him, their laughs as phony as their breasts. Men sized him up, found him lacking but Jensen could tell they were all thinking they wouldn’t mind pounding him into a mattress.

Occasionally Jared would look up and catch Jensen staring; Jared’s smile faltering just a fraction before turning away. Jensen was making him nervous. The thought made him hard, his cock weeping pre-come into his silk boxers. He had a brief flash of Jared on his knees, Jensen’s cock pumping in and out of his mouth while Jared’s eyes watered and he choked. There must have been something about the way Jensen’s face looked because next time their eyes met, Jared excused himself and went to grab another drink.

Jensen’s had unforgettable sex with many forgettable lovers. He enjoys it but doesn’t confuse it for anything more than a necessary biological function. He needs to eat so he eats. He needs to fuck so he fucks. He doesn’t mind fasting if nothing comes around that suits his tastes.

It’s this pragmatism that’s kept him from needing things he wants. Since he always gets what he wants, he has no use for need. Jensen never wanted anyone so badly as he wanted Jared. His want became a need.

It would be an understatement to say his first interaction with Jared was a total disaster. Jensen couldn’t have handled it worse unless he had asked Jared to act on his earlier fantasy and suck him off before exchanging names. When Jensen approached him Jared held up his hand.

“I know what you want and I’m not interested.”

Taken aback, Jensen smiled, “Oh? What if all I want is to know your name?”

“I know you think everyone has a price tag, Mr. Ackles. And once purchased you can do whatever you want. I’ll give you my name for free. That way you’ve not wasted your precious time on someone unworthy.”

Growing more intrigued by the minute, Jensen asked, “And your name, that I can neither purchase nor own, is something you feel I will abuse?”

“Jared Padalecki.”

The way Jared said his name, as if weaponized, made Jensen realize he’d injured someone the man cared for, though for the life of him he didn’t know who.

“Of course,” Jared said, his disdain delivered without a hint of surprise. “Why would you remember the name Padalecki. Pirates like you don’t care about collateral damage. You come to plunder and leave with your booty.”

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Padalecki. I’ve met many people in my life and can’t remember all of their names.”

“You should remember my name. You did attend the funeral of my namesake. My grandmother was so moved by the flowers you sent after you gutted her husband’s company and drove him to suicide.”

Oh. That guy.

“I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t realize you were connected to Padalecki Enterprises.”

“And why should you? Padalecki is such a common name,” Jared sneered.

Before Jensen could fathom how to respond, Jess came up, chipper and oblivious.

“Jared, did you get lost getting our drinks?” Her laugh was like a thousand bells Jenson wanted to smash with a hammer.

Then, realizing who Jared was speaking with, she extended an over eager hand.

“Mr. Ackles! What an honor it is to meet you. Your donation to the HRC was very generous.”

He donated to the HRC? Jensen made a mental note to speak with his accountant.

“Of course, Ms.?”

“Moore. Jessica Moore. You met my mother at last year’s Performing Arts benefit.”

How many of these things did Jensen attend? Either he has a double or Jensen spent most of his time as drunk as possible.

“Yes, of course. Mildred was it?”

“Margaret,” Jess corrected with an indulgent smile. For a name he pulled out of his ass, Jensen was impressed he was somewhere in the ballpark.

“Well, please tell her I said hello,” Jensen said.

“I will. She will be so pleased. I see you’ve met my fiance, Jared.”

If there’s an expression that’s an approximation of a cat biting off and swallowing its tongue, Jared made it.

Jensen, ever the amiable gentleman said, "Yes, we were just making our introductions.”

“And our goodbyes,” Jared said, much to the shock and chagrin of his companion. “Good day, Mr. Ackles.” Turning without looking to see if Jess followed, Jared disappeared into the crowd.

Jess watched him go with her mouth gaped open. "I’m so sorry, Mr. Ackles. Jared isn’t usually like that. I apologize on his behalf.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Jared and I were at the end of our conversation.”

Jess smiled, her hand reaching for Jensen’s and giving it a solicitous squeeze. “You’re too kind. Jared is new to these events. I think he’s just nervous.”

“Think nothing of it,” Jensen said, eager to be done with the girl.

When she lingered, not releasing his hand, Jensen began to suspect the girl was out for more than a simple chat.

“It really is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ackles. Your work with the Cancer Research Foundation and Women’s Rights Campaign is an inspiration.”

If it weren’t for the fact that this woman just introduced Jared as her fiance, Jensen would bet she was hitting on him.

“If you ever need any help organizing your own benefit, please let me know. I’d be glad to help you in any way I can,” she said, batting her false eyelashes over her watery blue eyes.

Yep, she was definitely hitting on him.

Interesting. And useful.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Ms. Moore. Here, take my card and leave your details with my assistant. I’m sure I can find a use for your talents somewhere,” Jensen said with a wink.

Blushing, Jess took the card, looked behind her to see Jared staring, and made her goodbyes.

“Until then, Mr. Ackles.”

“Until then, Ms. Moore.”

Interesting indeed.

The next time Jensen and Jared met it was at, of all cliche things, the gym. Jared was just getting out of the lap pool when Jensen left the steam room. Jared took one look at Jensen, grabbed his towel and made a beeline for the showers. If it weren’t for the fact that Jensen was actually gawking at the embodiment of a Greek god Jensen might have made the social faux pas of chasing after him into the locker room. As much as he’d like to speak with Jared again, doing so while he showered would be borderline harassment.

He was also concerned Jared might punch him in his pretty pretty face.

After their first encounter, Jensen had his assistant pull the files for the Padalecki Enterprises take over. It wasn’t pretty. Jared Sr., the poor gullible sonofabitch, actually believed Jensen was his saving grace.

The company was started by great great great grandpa Aleski Padalecki, a Polish immigrant who came to America to pursue a career in whatever the hell kind of work he could get. He got a job as a clerk in a general goods store. The owner, also a Polish immigrant with no children, willed Aleski the shop when he died. Aleski traded the shop for a gold mine in California that the previous owner had given up on. With just the clothes on his back and a few dollars to his name, Aleski headed to California, like a bunch of other suckers, to make his fortune.

And the damn fool did it. Either the previous owner was completely blind or just really stupid, Aleski struck gold his first week there. Flush with money, Aleski began buying up valuable property along the Union Pacific railway. In addition to other savvy investments and a penny pincher’s heart, Aleski amassed a great fortune that he passed on to his sons, Alexander and Jarek. His sons, having spent their youth beside their brilliant father, expanded the Padalecki fortune, investing in coal and copper mining.

From there, each successive generation managed to maintain and grow the family business, avoiding the hysteria of boom to bust investments. That is until Jared Sr. ran the business to the ground investing in the fruitless utility industry when he should have been buying up Microsoft and Apple stock. Jensen may have taken advantage of the old coot but the company’s parts were worth more than its whole. Except now Jensen wishes he spent a little more time trying to save it just for Jared Jrs' sake.

Regret was new to Jensen and he didn’t like it.

A background check revealed a little more about Jared but not as much as he’d like. Jared lost both parents in a car accident when he was 6. Jared was in the car at the time and suffered a spinal injury and broken legs. The doctors feared he’d never walk again but Jared Sr. bought Jared the best physical therapy in the country and he was walking 3 months after the accident. After a year, he was able to resume playing soccer.

Jared Sr. sent Jared to the best preparatory schools, ensured he focused on athletic and philanthropic after school activities, and provided Jared with a loving home. By all accounts, until Jared was a sophomore in high school, Jared lived a charmed life in spite of the loss of his parents.

Enter Jensen Ackles.

Fueled with this knowledge, Jensen was even more eager to connect with the man whose life he helped ruin. However, Jared refused all of his phone calls, and when Jensen tried contacting Mrs. Padalecki, Jared’s Sr. widow, he was told to “leave that boy alone”.

Jensen wasn’t deterred.

Aside from the fact that he bankrupted his family, Jensen knew his second greatest obstacle to Jared was Jessica Moore. Though she appeared to be little more than shallow arm candy, Jensen’s investigators found that Jared truly loved her. He may not be ready to marry her but had Jensen not interfered, it was a definite possibility.

As it happened, Jensen overestimated her quality. He asked one of his less savory investigators to pretend to be a rich businessman and seduce the girl. Henry had Jess on her back, legs spread in less than 3 dates. He was sure to fuck her in the happy couple’s apartment at a time he knew Jared would be arriving home.

Jess apologized to Jared and said she’d fallen in love with Henry in spite of her great affection for him, and Jensen had the pleasure of knowing Henry never contacted her again. Jess was devastated and tried to get Jared back but Jared packed his things and moved in with a friend. He refused to take her calls and transferred out of classes they shared.

One problem down.

Jensen’s next problem was the object of his affection. Jared absolutely refused to see Jensen for any reason at any time. And while a rational person might take this as a sign, Jensen saw it as a challenge.

With the school year coming to a close, Jensen had another one of his less scrupulous investigators approach Jared with an opportunity of a lifetime. Study abroad, all expenses paid for by a foundation that was begun by his great grandfather. Jared, wanting to get away from Jess’ incessant apologizing, jumped at the opportunity like a lifeline.

Jensen finally had his in. And he finally had a use for his island.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, at its core, a love story. A really fucked up loved story. However, the following chapter contains %100 non consensual sex. Fair warning.

Jared was floating on a sea of sensation. His mind clouded by the drug, eyes blinded by cloth, arms and feet bound to the softest bed he’d ever lain in. Jared felt the wet heat engulfing his cock, sucking it, consuming it, and every lap of the tongue, every slight tug and lift of his balls made him that much closer to coming. But the mouth knew and pulled away only to return and stoke his fire again. Jared lost track of how long this went on, this blissful build up to a devastating crash, but he knew enough to remember this was something he didn’t ask for.

This was something he didn’t want.

Time sped up, time slowed down. Peak after peak he climbed and failed to crest, the mouth that sabotaged his pleasure returning again to swallow and vibrate against his oversensitive penis. Jared begged, wept, pleaded for relief but the mouth continued.

The drug in his system cycled faster through his bloodstream, carried on by his rabbiting heartbeat and Jared thought, _It has to end. It must end._

Jared remembered a story he read in his abnormal psych class. A young girl was admitted to the ER with severe abdominal pain. After various blood tests and scans, the doctors found a large clump of hair was blocking her intestine. A surgeon was brought in and the blockage removed, and afterward, the girl confessed to eating her own hair. Not six months later the girl was brought in again with the same pain for the same reason, and after correcting the problem once more, her mother shaved her head.

Jared wished someone would come and cut off his connection to this perverse desire. The ecstasy and agony of the mouth were too much to bear.

He felt a finger circling his hole. Panic and bile rose up and he began to fight against his restraints. The finger retreated.

“Jared,” the mouth said. “You’re devastating like this. I didn’t know. How could I know.”

The mouth returned, again the build up, again the fall. Jared was grateful when he lost consciousness.

When Jared woke the restraints were gone. Next to the bed on a small table sat a sandwich and a bottle of water. The drug made Jared so thirsty that he spared no thought for the broken safety seal.

He ate the sandwich and looked around his prison. Tasteful, harmonious colors in hues he couldn’t name. Expensive furniture. A large picture window facing out onto a small group of trees. Jared struggled to pick up a chair, his coordination and balance hampered by the remains of the drug in his system and threw it at the window but the glass didn't break. Unbreakable glass.

Jared wept again. And then he passed out.

The mouth returned. Again and again, the mouth returned. Jared would wake, his arms and legs restrained, and the mouth would work him erect, make him keen and beg and offer. _Anything_ , he would tell the mouth. _Anything._

The mouth would laugh and continue its ministrations.

Sometimes the mouth spoke to him though Jared didn’t understand the words. He remembers feeling rag doll heavy, standing beneath a shower, being held up over a toilet. Being dressed, undressed, dressed again.

Time moved like molasses, burned like fire. Jared would forget his name. Forget the name of his mother.

 _How long have I been here_ , he would ask the mouth.

 _Forever_ , the mouth would say. _Forever._

 _When do I get to leave_ , he’d ask the mouth.

_Never. You’re mine, Jared. You’ll always be mine._

Jared tried to bargain. He’d be good. He’d never try to leave. Just please, please let him come. The mouth would continue as if Jared hadn’t spoken.

Jared was being conditioned, his drug-addled brain supplied one day.

Like a dog, or a rat, or a monkey.

Economist Keith Chen once tried to introduce the concept of money to monkeys. They'd each be given a select set of chips and each chip would be exchangeable for a certain number of Jello squares. As time went on, researchers started to notice the males offering their chips to females in exchange for sex. Thus, Yale introduced the concept of prostitution to their capuchin monkey population.

Jared remembered this and thinks he'd give all his chips to the mouth just to be able to come one time. Just hearing the unlocking of the door made him hard, made him anticipate and desire the mouth.

A few times during Jared’s feedings he'd remember the ache and strain of his heavy balls and he'd try to masturbate but his hand would feel as rough as sandpaper and he'd pull away.

He wanted the mouth. He needed the mouth to swallow him whole.

One day the mouth stopped sucking and spoke, and for the first time, the sound was clear as crystal.

“Jared, who am I? If you tell me who I am, I’ll let you come.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Please, I don’t know. Please let me come. Please.”

“Jared, listen to my voice. What’s my name?”

Jared tried to focus on the voice, the mouth a breath away from his cock, and listen to what the mouth wanted him to hear.

“Jared. What is my name? That’s all you have to do. Say my name and I’ll let you come.”

Jared’s fogged brain sorted through a catalog of sounds. Birds chirping outside the window at his elementary school. The squish of wet grass beneath his feet when he kicked a soccer ball to a friend. A water fountain in the lobby of his grandfather’s headquarters.

His grandfather.

_Oh god._

_No._

“Jensen,” Jared whispered.

The mouth descended once again but this time didn’t stop. Jared came so hard he blacked out.

Jensen slowly reduced the drugs in his food and water. Jared still became hard every time he entered the room. When Jensen climbed up the bed to suckle at his cock, Jared spread his legs wide, the response autonomic.

“How long have I been here,” Jared asked one evening, Jensen’s mouth red and wet from sucking him.

“6 weeks.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted you and I always get what I want.”

“Are you ever going to let me go?”

“No.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Jensen laughed, “No, Jared. I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to do something far worse than that.”

“What’s worst than death?”

“I’m going to make you love me.”

“Oh,” Jared said, and for the first time since his grandfather’s death, he laughed and laughed.

Jensen didn’t seem offended.

As the drugs left his system, Jared began to remember.

The offer to attend school in Europe for the summer from a mysterious benefactor related to his grandfather’s company, a connection his grandmother was unable to confirm due to her worsening dementia.

Taking a taxi from his apartment in the middle of the night without telling anyone where he was going for fear his overly helpful friends would tell Jess in a misguided attempt to reunite them.

Quitting his job and offering his grandmother's house as his forwarding address.

Selling all his belongings so he'd have spending money.

A ride on a private plane, no other passengers on board. An overly solicitous steward insisting he try a glass of wine he hadn't requested. The feeling of plummeting to the earth, his momentary fear that the plane was crashing.

Then darkness. Then the room. Then the mouth.

There were so many bad choices that made his current situation possible but most of them came back to Jensen Ackles.

The takeover, his grandfather’s suicide, Jess and that fucking benefit. She paraded him around in borrowed finery like she was spit shining a penny. Looking back he realized to her he was just as valuable.

But Jared was born into money. The kind of money Jess’ family with its small fortune would never comprehend. He may have been her ghetto chic but with Jared’s pedigree, marrying her would have been marrying down.

So Jared never stopped to wonder why a kid on a scholarship would get a ride on a private plane because deep down he felt he deserved it.

Deep down he felt he deserved a roach-less apartment with good water pressure that spits out more than a lukewarm drizzle. He deserved new clothes, nice watches and cars you didn't have to let warm up before they started. He deserved to be seen as someone who mattered, not some cautionary tale and charity case. This shitfest was not the life he was meant to live.

Jared felt so stupid. He was trapped god knows where and not a soul was looking for him. Not even his grandmother.

It would stand to reason that the architect of his previous misery is same as his current one. Jensen fucking Ackles.

Jared would find a way out of this or he'd burn the house down around them. He had to get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and encouragement.


	3. Chapter 3

Jared was hallucinating.

Jensen’s chemist, Alois Correa, the employee of a Peruvian drug lord he met at the craps table in Monte Carlo, had been working on a MDMA derivative known as Xocotzin. The drug had similar characteristics to Ecstasy; heightened sensitivity and trance-like euphoria, with the added bonus of intense sexual stimulation. It got its name from an Aztec goddess of sexual desire and on the street, it was simply known as Goddess.

The drug made you horny and blissed out; all without the troublesome hallucinations.

Or so Alois said.

“What kind of shit did you give me? He’s fucking hallucinating. Talking about girls eating their own hair and prostitute monkeys! This isn’t what I paid for,” Jensen shouted into his satellite phone, his sandals kicking up white sand as he paced.

“It works, Mr. Ackles. Exactly how I told you. If he’s hallucinating, it isn’t Goddess,” Alois assured.

“Bullshit! I haven’t given him anything else. And he’s convinced I never let him come. He keeps begging to come seconds after he does.”

“Ah. Yes. Unfortunately, that can be a side effect. People here say the euphoria is so intense any orgasm they have while on it feels like a letdown. I’m working on it.”

“Thanks for the fucking heads up,” Jensen yelled. “What’s the point of a sex drug if the user doesn’t get sexual pleasure? What am I supposed to do with a doped up sex crazed man who thinks he can’t come?”

“People down here are using it like Rohypnol. They’re not so concerned that their partner is getting off so long as it appears they are and are able to reciprocate,” Alois explained, then muffled his phone so he could yell at someone behind him.

“That’s fucked up!” Jensen shook his shoe, trying to dislodge a bit of sand.

“Jensen, please. Remember who you’re talking to. I know what you had in mind when you asked for it.”

More contritely, Jensen said, “Do people have a workaround for this before I suck his dick off? I was kinda hoping I’d get to enjoy it once he’s weaned.”

“People have said you need to connect to the part of the brain that recognizes faces. The temporal lobe.”

“Huh?”

“Right now Jared doesn’t know who you are. You’re just a part of an endless stream of sensation. Get him to connect the sensations with you. I don’t know if it works but some of my people say it does.”

Jensen hiccuped a laugh. “Fantastic. I’ll just find a way to connect to his temporal lobe. Think a car battery will do?”

Alois laughed.

“If this recognition shit doesn’t work, I want my money back.”

“You didn’t pay for it.”

“Exactly.”

“As for the monkeys. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe it's a fetish? No one on Goddess reported unusual hallucinations. They just say they get lost in a stream or some other junky nonsense. You know I would never touch the shit.”

Jensen laughed, thinking of his friend’s sun worn skin and dark mirthful eyes. “Whatever. If this hippy psycho babble doesn’t work, I’m calling you back.”

“It’s always a pleasure to receive a call from you, Mr. Ackles.”

“Quit blowing smoke up my ass. You just don’t want me to remind you of the 2 million you owe me.”

“You cheated,” Alois barked, once again muffling his phone, yelling at someone in Spanish.

Jensen rolled his eyes. “It’s not my fault you’re a lousy poker player. Maybe your brain cells are damaged from all that powder you’re surrounded in.”

“Don’t insult my work. Drugs are an honest business. Unlike what you get up to on Wall Street.”

Jensen huffed a laugh, “I’m going to go before my feelings get hurt. Say hi to Gabriela.”

“You know my wife doesn't like me talking to you. She says you’re a bad influence.”

“She just doesn’t want you to pay me my money.”

“Same thing,” Alois chuckled. “Good luck with your man. Let me know if he has any more hallucinations. If it’s a side effect of the drug, I might be able to market it under a different name.”

“You’d sell the same drug under a different name?”

“Yes. Maybe I’ll call it Placebo.”

“Fuck you,” Jensen laughed.

“Goodbye, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen clicked off his satellite phone and sat down on the sand. He looked over at the clear blue water and imagined Jared sucking him off as he watched the sun set. Everywhere he’d look he’d see an explosion of blues, golds, reds, and purples. Feel the heat of the sand beneath him as wet and warm as the mouth around him.

Jensen adjusted his cock and thought for a moment about abandoning his plan, going inside and fucking Jared into the mattress. He needed a release as desperately as Jared thought he did.

But he could wait. He had to wait.

He had the time, money, and perfect place.

Jensen’s island lay in international waters and according to UNCLOS, United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea owed no one nation sovereign allegiance. That didn’t mean he could do whatever the hell he wanted. U.S. Code states they have the right to claim territorial jurisdiction over any place outside the jurisdiction of any nation with respect to an offense by or against a national of the United States. You know, US national Jensen kidnapping and imprisoning US national Jared. Something like that.

The likelihood that the US would come waving their jurisdictional super pass was nil. Jensen was a well-respected businessman and Jared was a poor college kid everyone assumed was swallowed up in a sea of foreign travelers. He hadn’t had Jared here long enough to ring any alarm bells and once they did, Jensen’s island wouldn’t be a blip on their radar.

Everyone would assume Jared found something he wanted to stay hidden for, and a few cynical types would suggest he committed suicide like his grandfather.

Jared was another one of Jensen’s perfect marks. He didn’t want to but he could wait for him.

For now, until Jared’s mind adjusted to and assimilated the signals his body sent, Jensen would keep giving him Goddess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The drug Xocotzin does not exist. I made it up with my brain.
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and comments. They definitely help!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember folks. This is going to be a bumpy ride.

Jared started marking off days on the wall like a prisoner.

Classes ended at Stanford on June 14. He quit his job at The Roadhouse on the 20th, spent the 21st and 22nd hawking his stuff at pawn shops, donating the rest to Goodwill. He flew out of SF International on the 23rd. And he estimates he arrived wherever he was now later that day or early the next.

The fastest anyone has flown around the world is 67 hours. Jared doubted he was on the plane for more than eight, although the drug knocked him out completely and he woke tied to the bed. To be safe he estimated he arrived on the 24th.

If Jensen had been telling the truth about him being here six weeks, Jared started marking off days on his makeshift calendar on July 29th. That was eight days ago, making today August 6th, his grandmother’s birthday.

If she were lucid, this is the first day anyone would know for certain that he’s missing. Nothing short of death would keep him from calling her.

Rose Padalecki, born Rose Hughes, married Jared’s grandfather in 1971. She was 18. She gave birth to Jared’s father, James, the next year. James married Jared’s mother, Kimberly in 1993 and had Jared in 1994.

When Jared’s parents died in 2000, Rose took Jared in and raised him like he was her own son. She helped him through physical therapy, drove him to soccer practice when he was well enough to play, and shared with him her love of art and classical literature. She took him to museums, the theater, and taught him ballroom dancing.

When Mary Winslow broke his heart in the 7th grade, Rose took him out for ice cream and shared with him one of her favorite poems by Pablo Neruda, _Tonight I can write…_

Jared still remembers how beautifully her raven haired face lit up as she recited him the poem. One line still lingers in his mind today.

_Love is so short, forgetting so long._

Jared cried like his world was ending and she never made fun of him. Never told him it was just a childhood crush. She said, “In this life, we should celebrate any chance we get to love.” At that moment he fell just a little bit in love with her. No one would ever compare to his grandmother.

He'd never felt so far away and in need of her love as he did now.

Every day at noon Jensen brought him lunch. Usually, it consisted of a small salad, some kind of fish, and a glass of wine. Jared had long since resigned himself to the fact his food was being drugged and began to appreciate Jensen hiding its bitter taste in his drink.

Sometimes Jensen brought in a meal for himself and they ate together; in silence or talking about meaningless things. Other times, when Jared couldn’t stand the sight of him, he left Jared alone. Jared was never sure which he preferred.

This day, however, was different. Along with his usual meal, Jensen brought a piece of carrot cake. When Jared saw it his insides clenched in anger. It was his grandmother’s favorite. Jared was just about to say something when Jensen held out a strange looking phone. Satellite, his stunned brain supplied.

“I thought you’d like to call Mrs. Padalecki today. Wish her a happy birthday.”

Gobsmacked, Jared just stared at the phone like a garroted fish. Was this some kind of trick? Some kind of test?

“What’s the catch,” Jared asked. Pirates like Jensen never did anything for free.

“No catch. I know she’d love to hear from you.”

Jared reached for the phone but before he could get his fingers around it, Jensen stilled his hand.

“I’ll dial the number and wait outside. If you attempt to contact anyone else, you won’t like the consequences.”

Always a fucking catch.

“And what if I tell her you’ve kidnapped me?”

Jensen smirked and handed over the phone. “You won’t.” Then he turned and left the room.

Jared hit dial and listened to it ring.

“Hello?” he heard his grandmother say. It felt like a punch in the chest. Her voice was an oasis in his life that had become a stream of sex and pain.

“Grandma, it’s me. Jared.”

“Oh boy! It’s so good to hear from you,” she beamed. He could hear the joy, picture her beautiful smile in his mind.

“It’s good to hear your voice too,” Jared said, his voice catching on a stifled sob.

“What have you been getting up to? Enjoying your classes in Paris? Have you been to the bookstore I recommended? Shakespeare and Company,” she fired off. Always so eager to share in his joy.

This was the moment. Jared’s one chance at freedom. If he told his grandmother he’d been kidnapped, he knew that no matter how sick she was, how limited her funds, she would move heaven and earth to find him.

And if she couldn’t find him? If Jensen had buried him so deep in the world without any trail to follow? His grandmother would suffer unimaginable grief. She’d feel his loss as acutely as she did her husband’s. If he did this to her, pass on his burden in what was likely to be a fruitless attempt at freedom, it would kill her. He’d be as guilty of sending her to an early grave as Jensen was of killing her husband.

He couldn’t do it.

Suffocating his last bit of hope, Jared forced himself to respond. “I did. It’s an amazing place. Just like you said. It had that old book smell we both love.”

“Oh, Jared. That’s wonderful. You know Hemingway shopped there.”

“I did, grandma,” Jared said on another choked sob.

Being her usual keen self, she asked, “Are you alright? You sound upset.”

“Just a little homesick. I wish I was with you to celebrate your birthday.”

“I wish you were here too, honey. You always make the best carrot cake. Better than any bakery.”

Tears filling his eyes, he said, “I’ll be sure to order a piece in your honor next time I’m near a good cafe.”

“That would be lovely, Jared. Are you making lots of friends?”

There was only so far Jared was willing to go with this farce. There was one thing he wanted to try before he hung up, however. Risking Jensen overhearing and understanding what he was up to, he said, “I know it’s late for you. I just wanted to call and say happy birthday.”

“Jared,” she said confused. “It’s 9 am here.”

She was 3 hours behind. France is 9 hours ahead of California. Jared must be somewhere on the East Coast. From what little he could see of the weather, and factoring in it's unlikely that Jensen kept him in the US, he was somewhere in the Caribbean. On a goddamn island. Fuck.

“Right. You know how terrible I am with time conversion. Look, I hate to cut this call short but I’m meeting up with friends in a little bit. I just wanted to make sure I got to speak with you on your birthday.”

“You were always such a considerate boy. Don’t let this old lady keep you from your fun.”

Fun. Right.

“I love you, grandma,” Jared said, wondering if this would be the last time he’d get to say it.

“Love you too, sweet boy.”

“Bye, grandma.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Jared kept the phone to his ear, waited to hear the click. He didn’t know he hadn’t put it down until Jensen took it from his hand.

“Jared, I…,” Jensen began to speak.

“GET THE FUCK OUT! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!”

Nodding, Jensen pocketed the phone and left his room. Jared heard the locks clicking into place.

He turned and looked at his untouched meal. The taunting carrot cake. It was over. No one was coming for him.

He reached for the wine and swallowed the entire thing in two gulps.

Today, he welcomed oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best with time conversions but I'm afraid I'm not as good with them as Jared.


	5. Chapter 5

“How did you think that would go, Jensen,” Misha asked, his hands busy at the stove.

After setting a stack of plates out on the table, Jensen returned to the cupboard and pulled out two wine glasses. “I don’t know. Maybe the kid would show a little gratitude. I did let him talk to his grandmother.”

Misha snickered and held out a spoon, his hand cupped beneath it to catch any drips, “Taste.”

Jensen took a sip of the sauce and said, “Needs more pepper.”

Misha hummed and pulled out the salt, adding a pinch and stirring again.

Jensen grumbled, “If you’re not going to take my advice, why ask my opinion?”

Misha turned and gave him a pointed look. Jensen returned it with a glare. Misha chuckled. “Jared’s been locked in that room for weeks with nothing but you sucking his cock sore.”

“There are worse things I could be doing to him, Misha,” Jensen interrupted.

Misha nodded and began to strain the pasta. “Maybe that’s the problem.”

“How is my sucking the kid unconscious a problem,” Jensen asked, uncorking a bottle of red wine and pouring himself and Misha generous portions.

Misha turned to face him, his eyebrows up in indignation, “Jen, you’re not his boyfriend. You’re his captor. You bankrupted his family, broke up his relationship, drugged and kidnapped him. Sucking his cock like a pornstar doesn’t quite make up for all of that.”

Jensen took a big gulp of wine. Setting his glass down and putting on oven mitts, he opened the stove and took out the bread, placing it on a cutting board with a bread knife and transferring it to the table.

“I’m not giving him up.”

“And no one is asking you to. I’m just saying you should rethink how you’re going about this. Decide what you really want from him.”

“I want him riding my cock like a pogo stick,” Jensen leered.

“If that were the case, you’d have fucked him by now. Have you come once since you’ve been with him?”

“That’s none of your damn business, Misha,” Jensen declared.

“None of this is my business and yet I’m the one who gets the boys to clean him up, get him dressed, tied to the bed. For fuck sake, I’ve had more exposure to that kid’s ass than you have,” Misha exclaimed, walking to the table and using tongs to heap large helpings of pasta on each plate.

Jensen turned the gas on the stove off and brought the sauce pan over, ladling a portion over each pile of pasta.

“There are things you do for him that I don’t need to know about.”

Setting the saucepan aside, Jensen grabbed his wine glass and the wine bottle, set them both on the table and sat in a chair closest to the window. He glanced out and saw Chad and Chris patrolling the beach, their AK47s a stark contrast to the board shorts and flip-flops they wore.

Misha grabbed his drink and sat across, centering his plate on the table in front of him and tucking into his dinner. Eating a forkful and beginning to speak as he swallowed, “He needs to be able to do these things on his own. You need to stop drugging him, maybe put him in a room with a shower. Let him go outside and get some fresh air. It’s not like he can run anywhere and unless he gets some matches to set the damn island on fire, he won’t be signaling anyone.”

Swallowing a mouthful and nodding at the taste, Jensen took a sip of wine to wash it down. “To what end? He’s not on vacation.”

“No, he’s not. Why is he here? Aside from you wanting to fuck him, which,” Misha circled his fork in the air, encompassing all of Jensen in this remark, “you’re not. Why are you keeping him? Hell, why did you kidnap him? You can have anyone you want. Did you have to go for the kid of some poor bastard whose business you ruined and drove to suicide?”

“Whose side are you on, Misha,” Jensen yelled. “It’s not like you’re a paragon of virtue.”

Misha held his hands up, conceding. “I’m not saying I am. If it weren’t for you, I’d be in jail for killing my wife.”

Jensen snorted and took another sip of wine. “Felicia was a cunt.”

“Yes, but the police frown on killing people just because you don’t like them, “ Misha said, a small smile warming his stoic expression.

“She hired Chad to kill you!”

“The only person who could have testified to that was Chad himself. Assassins don’t make great witnesses.”

Jensen laughed and nodded.

Misha continued, “All I’m saying is you need to figure out what’s going on here. I haven’t had a clue what this was about from the beginning and I’m starting to think you don’t either. You’re not a kidnapper. You don’t ruffie your dates. Just what is it about this kid that you’re willing to risk everything for?”

Jensen didn’t respond. He liked Misha but sometimes wished he’d keep his insightful mouth shut.

Jensen sighed and ran a hand down his face, turned again to look out at the clear blue water. Why was he doing this? “I don’t know. You know how I am. I saw. I wanted. I took.”

“So why are you acting like a mistreated boyfriend? You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re the villain of this piece or you’re his savior. If you want to do right by him, have Chad dump him at the nearest Embassy and engage your parachute. Otherwise, eat your cake. If you get caught, you’ll pay for it either way.”

Jensen nodded, the thought had crossed his mind too many times in the last few weeks. Why hadn’t he fucked Jared? So far, his entire focus has been on pleasuring him. He loved seeing him wrecked, completely pleasure-soaked and spent. Maybe he’d been kidding himself that somehow all of that would eventually turn into Jared reciprocating. He’s been a fool.

“You’re right,” Jensen said. Picking up his fork, swirling it into the pasta and bringing it to his mouth. Before he took a bite he said, “Half the dose of Goddess you give him tonight and have the boys get him ready for tomorrow. It’s time I enjoy a taste of my stolen treasure.”

Misha smirked and lifted his glass. Jensen picked up his with his other hand and they both clinked glasses before taking a sip.

“To stolen treasure,” Misha said.

“To stolen treasure,” Jensen agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Descriptions of non-con

Jared was tied to the bed. Again.

The men who’d been overseeing his care - bathroom trips, shower time, supervising him shaving - had come to his room at 4 pm and informed him that Jensen would be arriving soon and he wanted his “pet” ready.

Jared’s a big man. Added to years of running and strength training, it takes a lot to take him down. The two men who manhandled him did so just barely and if it weren’t for the drugs in his system, Jared would have done more than break one of their noses.

The guy, Jared just thought of him as “the short one”, raised his hand as if to strike back but his companion stopped the swing mid-air.

“Are you crazy? Ackles would break your hand if you hurt the kid.”

Shaking the other man off, the short one hissed, “This is bullshit, Chad. Why the hell is Jensen bothering with this punk?”

“I don’t know and I’m not paid enough to care. Neither are you. Let’s just get it over with,” the guy, apparently Chad, who Jared had been referring to as “the blond one” in his mind, directed.

Wiping blood from his nose and glaring at Jared, the short one said, “I can’t wait until Ackles gives us the go ahead to kill him. I’m going to start by breaking his goddamn pretty face.”

“Shut the hell up, Chris, and help me get his feet restrained.”

Jared kicked and flailed, his already restrained hands making getting any kind of force behind it impossible. He did manage to peg Chris in the balls. Jared had seconds to enjoy his small victory before Chad sat on top of him.

“Be a good boy, Jared, or I’m going to have to dose you again,” Chad warned and Chris went about binding his feet to the bottom bed posts.

Jared cursed and threatened, all of it muffled by the gag in his mouth.

Chad just settled on top of him more, Jared’s entire upper torso weighed down by the man’s unassuming strength.

Once Jared stopped wriggling and turned his efforts to glaring daggers, Chad stilled his movements and said, “That’s right, Jared. If you cooperate all of this will go a lot smoother.”

Jared returned to thrashing and Chad leaped off him once he realized that Chris had Jared’s legs secured.

Jared tugged at his bindings and banged his head against the mattress. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Just as they were leaving Jared heard one of them say to the other, “Jensen is out of his mind.”

Jared didn’t know how long he lay there like that, gagged and staring up at the ceiling, but at some point he must have dozed off because he startled awake when he heard Jensen’s voice.

“You are so beautiful.”

Jared turned to glare at Jensen and his breath caught. Jensen was naked, stroking his cock and staring at Jared like he wanted to eat him.

“You know the first time I saw you I imagined you on your knees, my cock bruising the back of your throat. I should have pictured you like this.”

Jared swore into the gag and flipped Jensen off with his bound hand.

Jensen huffed a laugh and continued stroking, occasionally fondling his balls with his other hand.

“That,” Jensen pointed, “that right there is so much a part of what makes me want to fuck you. That fire. That life.”

Jensen released his cock and strolled over to Jared, his gait easy and careless, as if he weren’t naked and about to rape a drugged and bound man.

Jensen trailed his fingers over Jared’s abdomen, used his nails to raise goosebumps on his arms. Gripped Jared’s flaccid cock and began to stroke. After weeks of conditioning, it was embarrassingly easy for Jensen to make him hard.

“I saw you at the benefit, being dragged around by that vapid tramp, and thought...I’m going to have that man hanging off my dick.”

Jared spit more curses into his gag, wiggled his hips to move away from Jensen’s tight hold. Jensen just held on tighter, his grip enough to cause pleasure but not pain. Jared closed his eyes and tried to think of anything that would douse his desire.

Jensen began lazy, teasing strokes, then Jared felt the bed dip beside him. Jensen removed his hand and took Jared into his mouth, his tongue licking around the head, down his length to his base. As much as Jared hated him, Jensen gave amazing head and Jared felt his body relax as Jensen’s talented tongue took over his rational thinking.

Just before Jared was about to come, Jensen pulled off. Jared’s eyes flew open as he felt Jensen get on the bed, get up on his knees and reach for the gag, untying it and tossing it on the floor.

“Stop,” Jared rasped, trying to speak around the dryness in his mouth. Jensen, sensing Jared’s dilemma, leaned over, grabbed a water bottle and held it to Jared’s lips.

“Drink,” he said.

Jared shook his head and tried to move away. Jensen held his head steady and put the bottle back to his lips. “It’s not drugged and you’re thirsty. Drink.”

Jared glared but opened his mouth. The cool water soothed his parched mouth and throat.

“Good boy,” Jensen said, pulling the bottle away and setting it on the nightstand.

“Jensen, please. You don’t have to do this. You haven’t taken this too far to undo. Just let me go.”

Quirking his mouth, Jensen said, “Oh? Kidnapping wasn’t too far? Drugging you wasn’t too far? Sucking your cock until you passed out wasn’t too far? But sticking my dick in you is crossing the line.” He shook his head.

“I’ll forget all of it. I won’t tell anyone. Just let me go,” Jared begged.

“Did you get that line from a bad political thriller,” Jensen mocked.

“Just stop, Jensen. You don’t have to do this.”

Jensen put his finger over Jared’s lips and smiled, “I don’t have to. I get to.”

Jared resumed his struggling as Jensen once more settled next to him. “I suppose asking for a kiss is too much?”

“Fuck you, you psychopath.”

Nodding, Jensen took Jared into his mouth again, the wet, tight heat made all the more unendurable by the increased suctioning. Any movement Jared made pushed him deeper into Jensen’s mouth and stilling only felt like acquiescence.

Jared banged his head against the mattress and waited until Jensen was finished. His body burned, his cock throbbed. The more enthusiastic Jensen became, the harder it was to separate what was happening to him from something he wanted.

Then he felt a finger circling his anus, the blunted fingernail poking into the sensitive flesh.

“Jensen,” he whispered, “no.”

Jensen ignored him and kept on sucking, his finger pushing in and exploring.

Jared wasn't new to being fingered. Nor was he new to anal sex. There were a few men in college he’d experimented with and one, Anthony, he’d been fairly serious about.

It was his freshman year and they’d met in a poli-sci class taught by one of the most boring professors ever to disgrace the halls of academia. Jared dropped his book on the floor to see if it would interrupt the man’s droning and Anthony had looked over his shoulder, guessed what he was up to, and winked. After that they were inseparable. They’d make out on the quad between classes and hold hands at LGBTQ rights rallies.

When Anthony went home for winter break and told his fanatically religious parents that he'd fallen in love with a guy, his parents did not react well. They threatened to pull his funding for the school, threatened to disinherit and disown them. Jared found out all of this during panicked phone calls and emails. Jared offered to drive up to Seattle to get him. Told Anthony it would be alright. They didn’t need anyone else. They’d take care of each other. At some point, the calls and emails stopped and when Jared returned to class in January, Anthony was holding hands with a girl.

He’d shared this sob story with Jess and her only response was that if he were into guys maybe they could have a threesome.

Jensen was right. She was a vapid tramp.

Jared tried to pull away from the finger and when it became two fingers, felt one of them brush his prostate, he whispered, “Jensen, please. No.”

Jensen finally heard him. He lifted his head and looked into his eyes; Jared watched as Jensen's blown black lust fade into, if he had to categorize it, terror. Jensen reeled back, stumbled off the bed and ran out of the room.

Jared wasn’t sure but he thought he heard Jensen hyperventilating, another man with a deep voice say, “Jen? What’s wrong?”

Jared lay there for another 10 minutes, his now soft cock resting in a pool of pre-come on his stomach before Chris and Chad came to untie him.

They were subdued and quiet, and Jared didn’t bother to fight them, rolling over on his side and dragging the comforter over him.

“I’ll be by with your dinner in a little while, Jared,” one of them said.

Jared didn’t respond. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, unaware he was crying and lay there thinking about what the hell just happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I'm working on chapter 8. That should be out in the next day or so.

Jensen sat on the sand, his elbows resting on his bent knees, a bottle of rum dangling from his fingertips. He looked out over the clear blue water and the setting sun, occasionally taking a deep pull of alcohol; the sweet burn a paltry comfort. He was going to sit there until he was too drunk to stand, too drunk to move, too drunk to think.

He heard Misha approaching from behind him and held out the bottle. “If you’re here to drink, you can stay. If you want anything else, fuck off.”

“Always the charmer, Jensen.” Misha took the bottle and sat down next to him, kicking off his flip flops and burying his toes in the sand. He looked at the bottle and made a disgusted sound, then took a large gulp. He handed the bottle back.

Chad and Chris came up, offered brief reports about patrols and what Carlos had seen on the monitors. There were no signs on the radar of approaching craft. The sea was quiet, unlike Jensen’s churning mind. They didn’t mention Jared and he didn’t want to know. They had their orders.

The more Jensen drank, the more his mind rebelled. He could see nothing but Jared’s panicked eyes, his tear-stained face. He was no longer the pleasure soaked man who begged him to come. No longer that man that came undone in his hands, in his mouth, again and again. He was Jensen's prey. His victim.

“What happened in there?”

“Misha,” Jensen warned.

Misha held up a hand. ”I’m not going to do this with you. Sit here drinking ourselves stupid while you give me the silent treatment. If you didn’t want to talk you wouldn’t have let me sit down.”

Misha took the bottle from Jensen just to give himself something to do while Jensen collected himself.

“Son of a bitch.” Jensen dropped his chin to his chest. “I almost raped him.”

Misha sighed. “And?”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said I almost raped him!” Chad and Chris looked over from where they were standing but had enough self-preservation to quickly turn away.

“Jensen,” Misha started, thought better of it and started again. “You’re a brilliant man but I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be willfully un-self aware”

“Shut the fuck up, Misha.”

“No,” Misha said, turning his body to face Jensen. “We’re not doing that thing where I talk and you pretend to listen. This time you’re going to hear me.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow and gestured with his hand for Misha to continue.

“What do you think has been going on this whole time? Some romance novel courtship in which Jared secetly wants to be here? This has always been against his will. You know this. It was a point we all stressed when we tried to talk you out of it. Why are you so shocked and awed that he’d react this way once the drugs wore off?”

“I-I didn't... I didn't want to know,” Jensen said, taking the bottle back, lifting it to his lips only to find it empty, and tossing it into the sand in front of him. He was vaguely aware of one of the Cs picking it up.

“I wanted so badly to feel him. I wanted him to feel me. I wanted to be buried so deep inside he'd never be free of me.”

Misha listened but said nothing. Eventually, he leaned back in the sand, his body propped up on his elbows, his ankles crossed.

“Do you think that's what he felt? Did he see me like that,” Jensen choked out, his voice cracking.

“Don't you dare compare this to that motherfucker. You were a child. Too young to even know what was happening.”

Jensen huffed and shook his head. “What's the difference? Jared is older, sure, but are my motivations any more pure? Have I spared a single thought to what this is doing to him?”

“No. You haven’t.”

Jensen ran his hands through his hair, ran his hands over his face.

“I don’t know what to do. For the first time since… I don't know..."

Misha put his hand on Jensen’s shoulder and squeezed. “We all know you’ve been going about this the wrong way. And I know you won’t give him up.”

Jensen grabbed a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers. “So what then? Keep him confined in an office, bound to a bed and drugged senseless? Rape him? I’m a bastard, Mish, but even I…”

“I know,” Misha comforted. “I think… I think maybe you need to change your approach. You may never get him to return your affections but you might get him to tolerate his confinement.”

Jensen gave a short, bitter laugh. “You make him sound like a zoo animal.”

“You treat him like one,” Misha smirked.

“You’re such a bitch, Misha.”

Misha smiled. “And you’re a bastard. If I were into cock we’d make quite the pair.”

Jensen laughed, for the first time since leaving Jared’s room he didn’t feel the pressure on his chest.

“What do you suggest?”

“Get him out of that room. Give him some… ”

Just then Chris came running up with the satellite phone.

Annoyed, Jensen glared. “Chris, I thought I told you I’m not taking any calls.”

Chris took a deep breath and steeled himself. “Sorry, Sir. I tried to tell him that but he kept insisting. Said he was going to kill you if you didn’t speak to him.”

“Pellegrino. Shit.” Jensen reached his hand out for the phone and took it off hold.

“What do you want, Pellegrino,” Jensen barked, standing up and starting back toward the house.

“Ah, so the prince deigned to take my call. I should threaten your life more often.” Pellegrino’s smarminess transferred even over the phone. “It seems you’ve fallen off the grid. I wanted to make sure you’re still taking care of my money.”

“Why are you bothering me with this? My assistant attends the board meetings, takes all my calls, and I’ve never once failed to handle something she's not authorized to do. If you want answers, call Alona. Your money is fine.”

“Taking care of it is not the same as making sure I make more. So many things can happen in a day and I understand you’re too far away to do anything about it.”

Pellegrino’s implication that he knew where Jensen was sent chills down his spine. “If you called to bitch, get a therapist. I’m on vacation.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days,” Pellegrino sneered.

Jensen stilled, his stomach suddenly queasy. “What else would I call it?”

“I’ve heard you have a special visitor. And you’ve been a very naughty boy.”

Fuck.

Jensen put the phone between his shoulder and ear and rooted around the cabinet looking for more rum. “And where did you hear that?”

“A little birdy told me,” Pellegrino singsonged.

“You and your bird can go fuck yourselves. If there’s something wrong with your money, I’ll call you.”

Ending the call, Jensen motioned Chad over. “Someone’s been talking to Pellegrino. Find out who.” Chad turned to leave but Jensen stopped him. “And move Jared into one of the bedrooms.”

“Yes, Sir.” Chad nodded and pulled out another satellite phone. Jensen heard him swearing into the phone as he walked outside.

Misha, having followed Jensen into the house asked, “What did he want?”

“To threaten me about Jared.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck is right.”

“What are we going to do,” Misha leaned against the counter. His worried expression only a fraction of what he must be feeling.

“Pellegrino doesn’t know where the island is. Jared should be safe here. I’m more worried about the damage he’s causing in New York. I’m going to need to fly back.” Jensen slammed the satellite phone on the counter and looked up to see Chris escorting Jared to another room. Jared followed behind him docilely, his once fiery bravado snuffed like a candle in a hurricane.

Jensen did that. And Jensen would find a way to fix it.

“Have Gray get the helicopter ready. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

Misha turned to leave but Jensen stopped him. “Stop putting Goddess in Jared’s food.”

Misha nodded and headed outside to the barracks.

Jensen took the cap off a new bottle of rum and took a long pull. Just when he thought things couldn’t get more complicated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My keyboard got away from me. This chapter is a bit longer than the others.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Jared woke to the feel of a warm, salt-scented breeze ghosting his skin but that wasn’t what woke him. For a moment, as he stared up at the palm bladed fan, Jared thought the whoomp whoomp whoomp sound was coming from it. Then his sleepy brain supplied, _helicopter._

Unmindful of his unclothed state, Jared leaped from the bed and ran in the direction of the sound. It didn’t register that the door to his room was unlocked, nor that there were no guards outside to attend him. His only thought was that of the blades, the aircraft, and a chance at freedom.

Had someone come to get him? Did his grandmother not believe his lies? Hope blossomed like spring in his chest as he ran toward the sound.

Jared rushed out the back door, over the dunes and into the trees. He didn’t see the stares of the armed men, didn’t hear them begin to frantically shout into their walkie talkies. He headed toward the sound that was his only hope, direct as truth north.

When he broke through the trees, he stumbled over shrubbery lining the helicopter pad and fell. On his knees, unaware of the tears in his eyes, he looked up to see the craft lift off and a stoic Jensen staring in his direction.

He screamed and shouted but nothing could be heard over the sound of the blades. Then he cried. For this first time since this all began, he uncontrollably wept as he watched the helicopter become a black speck on the horizon.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there on his knees on the tarmac. He vaguely remembers someone coming up to him and handing him clothes, helping him put them on. Offering him a bottle of water. He drank hoping it was drugged. Anything to numb the pain.

Then he was walking, being guided by a dark haired man much shorter than him and herded back into the house. He was directed toward a chair in the kitchen and he sat automatically, no more concerned than if he were sitting down in a den of lions.

“I’m going to make some tea, Jared,” the man said, his voice deep and resonate. “Would you like a cup?”

Jared nodded or shook his head. He wasn’t sure which, but whatever it was it was interpreted as a yes and not long after he was being presented a warm cup and saucer.

“My name is Misha. I’m an associate of Jensen’s.”

That made Jared look up. The man’s serious blue eyes stared back at him as if waiting for Jared to say something. He put his head back down and the man continued.

“I know you want to go home, Jared. I know being here isn’t your choice.”

Jared snorted and reached for the tea, the earlier fog from his crying jag receding. It was sweet and warm, something with lemon and honey. It soothed his throat. He must have been shouting longer than he realized.

“I want to help you get there.”

The statement had Jared looking up again, his anger returning with force. “Yeah, right. If that’s the case, give me your phone so I can call a local embassy and have them pick me up.”

“You know where you are,” Misha asked.

“It’s not hard to guess. This is an island. We’re three hours ahead of California. Jensen wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep me in the states.”

Misha nodded, “Jensen said you were smart.”

“And how would he know that?”

“Jensen’s been investigating you for a while now. There’s not much he doesn’t know about you.” Misha sipped his tea but didn’t take his eyes off him.

“Right. My friendly neighborhood stalker,” Jared took another sip of tea. “How did that translate into abduction and sexual assault?”

Misha looked away and didn’t respond.

“What’s your part in all this,” Jared asked, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m a friend trying to keep a friend from making the biggest mistake of his life.”

Jared huffed. “You’re pretty lousy at that.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve been. But I think you and I can change that,” Misha said, subtly gauging Jared’s response.

“Why would I help you? You’re one of the sons of bitches who keep me here.”

Misha nodded but continued, “You won’t only be helping me. You’ll be helping yourself.”

Jared clenched his fists but didn’t say anything. He had nothing to lose if he heard the man out.

“There are things you need to know about Jensen, things he’d never tell you, or anyone for that matter, that influence every decision he makes.”

Jared set his cup down on the saucer too forcefully and the ceramic broke. “If this is the part where you tell me he had a horrible childhood and no one ever loved him, skip it. Life’s hard for everyone. The majority of us don’t resort to false imprisonment and rape to work out our shit.”

Misha sighed and nodded, stood to take the remnants of Jared’s shattered cup to the trash. He returned with a rag to soak up the spilled tea.

“It’s true. Everything Jensen has done since the day he laid eyes on you has been one mistake after another.”

Jared tilted his head. “You mean the benefit? That's not where we first met. Jensen doesn’t remember but we were introduced at my grandfather’s funeral. I guess 15-year-old kids aren't part of his purview.”

Misha pulled out a chair and sat across from Jared, his head down and shoulders slumped.

“God, Jensen can be such a myopic asshole.”

Jared didn’t disagree.

But he soldiered on. “You’re right. None of what he experienced justifies his actions but Jensen did have a terrible childhood. And while you don’t need to feel sympathy for anything that’s happened to him, knowing might help you figure out how to deal with him.”

“Forewarned is forearmed?”

“Something like that.” Obviously nervous, Misha stood and started taking pans and cutting boards out of the cupboard, bottled water, and other items from the refrigerator.

“Jensen was an only child to a single mother who had Jensen when she was 16. She was stunningly beautiful but that wasn’t enough for the boy who got her pregnant to stick around. Kicked out by her parents, she ended up on the streets, penniless and pregnant.”

“If you tell me she became a pickpocket I’m going to throw up.”

Misha snorted, took an egg out of the carton and cracked it on the edge of a pan, pouring its contents in. After dumping the shells in the sink, he cracked another.

Jared reached for one of the water bottles.

“A local preacher helped her get in contact with social services. They found her a home in a halfway house, a part time job, and she gave birth to Jensen in a hospital room paid for by Medicaid. None of her friends or family were there”

“So we’re going for the old rags to riches angle?”

“Jared,” Misha paused, his voice a breath away from stern. “I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you but I am trying to help. Please let me finish.”

Jared rolled his eyes but nodded for Misha to continue.

“She was able to move out of the halfway house and into a government run apartment complex. She got work as a waitress at a diner and enrolled Jensen into early education classes and afterschool programs in lieu of paying for daycare. When he wasn’t there, he stayed with an elderly woman across the hall.”

“So his mother’s a saint. Why is this relevant?”

Misha turned and stared at Jared, the brief flash of fury that crossed his face making Jared question his tactic.

“That cunt was not a saint.”

Jared hadn’t expected that.

Shaking off his anger, Misha continued. “A man came into the diner one day. He was having car trouble and turned off the highway into a neighborhood he wouldn’t normally use to wipe the shit off his shoes. Jensen later found out the car trouble was caused by an employee attempting to kill him.”

Jared laughed. “Sounds like the hero of the story is a bit of a dick.”

Misha slammed his cutting knife on the counter and took several deep breaths. “That man is no more a hero than Liane was a mother.”

Liane. So Jensen wasn’t shit out for the bowels of hell after all

“So a man walks into a diner…,” Jared prompted.

“The man, Mitch Pileggi… You’ve heard of him, I assume.”

Jared interrupted, “No. Who’s Mitch Pileggi?”

Misha snorted. “No one after Jensen was through with him,” Misha answered, returning to his task of cutting up peppers and ham.

“Pileggi took one look at Liane and knew he could have her. She was beautiful but poor and desperate. Not the kind of girl that gets options in life. He wanted her but wanted nothing to do with her six-year-old son.”

“Jensen.”

Misha nodded with his knife. “Jensen. Pileggi told Liane he’d marry her if she got rid of her kid.”

Jared didn’t react but his heart rate picked up.

“She didn’t even take the night to sleep on it, didn’t bother packing her meager belongings or say goodbye. Jensen was alone in the apartment for three days before the woman across the hall called CPS.”

Misha turned to see if Jared was paying attention. Jared looked him in the eye but otherwise schooled his features. He didn’t care what Jensen had been through.

“He was eating raw macaroni and licking the cheese out of a package of Mac N Cheese when the social worker found him. He hadn’t changed out of his school clothes and the social worker noted he’d wet himself.”

Misha pulled a square of cheese wrapped in brown paper out of the refrigerator and brought it and a shredder over to Jared. Without prompting, Jared began his task. It was the first time in weeks he’d done anything other than sleep, shit, stare at the wall or have his cock sucked.

“Jensen was placed into his first of many foster homes that night as social services attempted to locate his mother. She and Pileggi were wed the next week and, because of his wealth and her name change, they never found her.”

Misha dumped the peppers and ham into the pan with the eggs, turned the burner on, and began to slowly fold the ingredients together.

“Foster Care, for Jensen, was worst than any horror story you’ve ever heard. He was neglected, beaten and... ” Misha didn’t finish, though it wasn’t hard to guess what he was going to say.

Furious that Jensen would subject him to the same abuse he endured, Jared yelled, “I don’t give a shit. I don’t care what Jensen’s gone through. Nothing in his past could justify kidnapping, drugging and raping me.”

Misha stilled his movements and looked at Jared, his expression a mix of contrite frustration. “It doesn’t. I’m not saying it should. What I am saying is that these experiences influence every aspect of Jensen’s life. From the way he runs his corporation to how he treats his friends.”

Taking the cutting board covered in cheese Jared had shredded, Misha sprinkled some of it over the two omelets he plated. Setting one down in front of Jared and taking the seat across from him, he continued.

“Jensen doesn’t see any of us as friends. We’re people he owes or people who owe him. There’s not a person on this island that wouldn’t gladly give their life for him and he sees us as useful idiots. We’re tools he uses, weapons he wields, necessary means to an end.”

Jared ate a forkful of omelet, before asking, “Is that why you’re betraying him now?”

Misha lifted his head, shocked. “I’m not betraying him. I’m trying to save his life.”

Misha set his fork down and ran his hands through his hair, it’s already messy state exacerbated, making him look wild and unhinged.

“Ever since this started, Jensen’s been a mess. He’s let several deals fall through and pissed off a good number of his less savory business associates. You are a ticket to an early grave and I won’t let his obsession with you get him imprisoned or killed.”

“How altruistic,” Jared replied. “But I have a feeling you’re doing this because if Jensen goes down, so do you. All of you. All of you had a hand in keeping me here.”

“That’s true but that’s not what this is about. You’re the only person in my many years of knowing him that’s come close to meaning something to him.”

Jared shook his head and leaned back in his seat, trying to distance himself from Misha as far as physically possible. “And this is supposed to move me to forgive and forget? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Very, if you don’t use this to your advantage. You want to go home, play on Jensen’s feelings for you.”

Stunned silent, Jared just waited for Misha to continue.

“You think this is the worse thing Jensen’s done? Or the worst any of us have done? You’re living in a den of murderers and thieves. I’m just trying to help you get out of it alive. Jensen’s bizarre affection for you is the only thing keeping this from getting more out of control.”

“So you’d kill me?”

“For fuck sake, kid,” Misha yelled. “Would you listen to me? I’m trying to save your life.”

His food abandoned, Jared crossed his arms. “You’re trying to save Jensen’s life.”

“And lucky for you, saving Jensen means saving you. If you don’t find a way to get him to let you go…” Misha’s expression implied more than Jared was willing to acknowledge.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Fuck him, suck his cock, give him what he wants. The worst thing you could do is provide Jensen with an unattainable goal.”

Outraged, Jared replied, “So basically you’re telling me to let him rape me.”

“I’m telling you to remove the incentive. The best thing that could happen for all of us is if he gets what he wants from you and gets bored. Jensen has a dangerously low attention span.”

“How do I know Jensen or your merry band of sociopaths won’t just kill me?”

“We may be murderers but Jensen isn’t. I give you my word that I will get you off this island alive.”

“The word of a murderer and thief isn’t much.”

“And it’s all you’ve got.”

Misha got up and dumped his uneaten food into the trashcan. He gestured towards Jared’s dish and Jared nodded, allowing Misha to take his plate and do the same with it.

Misha began cleaning up and said, “I can’t tell you what to do. What happens has always been out of my hands.”

Jared had heard enough. He stood up and walked out but before he passed through the kitchen threshold, he turned and asked, “Whatever happened to Jensen’s mother and Pileggi?”

“Pileggi’s was the first company Jensen ever destroyed.”

“And his mother?”

“Left Pileggi for a richer man.”

“Did Jensen bankrupt him too?”

“Yes.”

Nodding, Jared left the room. He heard the back door open and someone walk into the kitchen. Just as he was about to close his bedroom door he heard someone say, “This had better work,” and Misha replying, “It has to.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Jensen, you’ve been gone eight hours and you’ve called three times. Jared is fine,” Misha said before even saying hello.

Jensen held the phone between his shoulder and ear, leaned against his desk with his ankles crossed and flipped through his mail and messages. “That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh, what’s your excuse this time? Another check of our food stores, to see how the weather is, or maybe you want to hear how Chris’ Skype girlfriend is doing.”

“Shut up, Misha.” Motioning to Alona who was sitting on the couch typing away on her laptop, he held up one of the messages and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, Alois called. Said he needed to talk to you but I told him you were out on vacation. He told me to tell you to call him at home and hung up,” she said.

Shaking the note, Jensen scolded. “His number’s not on here."

“I told my damn secretary to write it down,” she said and opened up her phone to look for it. Finding it, she reached across Jensen’s body and wrote it down on a post it notes.

“Thank you,” he said. Nodding, she returned to her computer.

“Thank you for what,” Misha asked, the staticky connection making hearing anything but Jensen impossible.

“I’m not talking to you.”

“Then why did you call,” the frustration in Misha’s voice evident.

Caving once again to his worry, he asked, “How’s Jared doing?”

“The same as he was the last three times you asked. Aside from wanting to go home, he’s fine. You’ve got more important things to worry about. We can babysit him for a few days without everything going to hell.”

Jensen mouthed to Alona, “Get us dinner.” She nodded and left the office to call for take-out.

Returning his attention to Misha, who’d been saying something he wasn’t paying attention to, Jensen interrupted. “Has he left his room? Does he know he can go out? Have Chad or Chris given him a tour of the safe places to go on the island?”

“Yes, yes and yes. I told you, we got this. We’re even feeding him.”

“Has he...,” Jensen hesitated.

“No, Jen. He hasn’t asked about you. He saw you take off, knows you’re not here. Other than that, we haven’t discussed you.”

Jensen nodded though Misha couldn’t see it. “Ok. Just...call if there are problems. And make sure someone is on the monitors at all times. I don’t know what Pellegrino is up to but if he does know about the island, I wouldn’t put it past him to try to kill us all in our sleep.”

“I know this. Carlos is on it. Everything is ok here, Jen. Focus on work.”

“Call me if anything…” Jensen started before Misha interrupted.

“Anything happens. Yes. I’ll even call you with updates if nothing happens. Stop worrying. Go tend to your business.”

Jensen sighed, disconnected the call and returned to his messages. Three calls from board members wondering where the hell he was, two messages from Pellegrino threatening him if he didn’t return his call, one from Alois, and one from his housekeeper from earlier that day.

Jensen started with the most curious one.

He dialed Alois’ home number and was surprised when Gabriela picked up and spoke before he identified himself, “Jensen?”

She must have noticed the New York area code. “Hello, Gabriela. How are you?”

“Better than you, gringo.”

Jensen laughed. “That doesn’t sound good. Where’s Alois?”

“In his study. He’s been waiting for your call all week.”

The concern in Gabriela’s voice was disconcerting in and of itself. She’d never been that hospitable the few times Jensen had been in Peru and from what Alois said, he knew she didn’t like him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been on…”

“Vacation. Yes,” she interrupted. “That’s what everyone is saying.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“It’s not my place to say. Let me get Alois.” Jensen heard her pause and then say, “Take care of yourself, Jensen. I know Alois wouldn’t like to lose a friend.”

With that ominous statement, he heard her knock on Alois’ door and hand him the phone.

Jensen could hear Alois fumble the phone and then, “Jensen, you have a mole.”

Jensen dropped his chin to his chest, felt that uncomfortable burning in his stomach. “Do you know who?”

“No, but it’s someone close to you.” Jensen heard the click of a lighter, heard Alois inhale.

“What else have you heard?” Jensen dumped his mail and messages on the desk, walked around it and sat in his chair.

“Pellegrino knows about your special guest. Knows how he came to be in your company.”

“Fuck.” Jensen was worried about that but having it confirmed made it all the more terrifying.

“Who are you getting your information from?”

“My employer.” Jensen knew Alois never mentioned Lucio’s name. He knew his phones were probably tapped and wasn’t going to trust Jensen’s phone.

“Do you know where he got the information?”

“One of Pellegrino’s men came sniffing around. Wanted to see if he could buy product for distribution in America. My employer told him to go fuck himself.”

“That’s interesting and smart.”

“Yes, it is,” Alois said.

“How did I come up?”

“My employer was told one of Pellegrino’s associates would soon be removed from the game board, and that it would be in his best interest to disavow this person.”

“Your employer must not have liked that.”

“No. My employer sent him back missing a finger.” Jensen heard him take another deep inhale, then exhale. Alois loved Cuban cigars.

“Remind me to send him a fruit basket.”

Alois laughed.

“Do you have any suggestions,” Jensen asked.

“Clean your house.”

Jensen picked up a pen and started twirling it through his fingers. “I understand.”

“By the way. Has your guest experienced any more hallucinations?”

“No. But I’ve stopped giving him Goddess. What are the side-effects of withdrawal?”

“Nothing but feeling like you have a mild case of the flu.”

Jensen hummed and nodded. “Do have any idea which direction Pellegrino is going to come at me?”

“Where you’re weakest.”

Jared.

“Thanks, Alois. I appreciate the heads up.”

“Anything for the man who won’t ask me to repay my gambling debt.”

Jensen laughed, said his goodbyes, and returned to his messages.

He thought about how he found himself in Pellegrino’s sphere and once again questioned his reasoning as to why he so aggressively bid against him.

Jensen bought out the majority shares of a shipping and imports company that had fallen victim to a human trafficking scandal. One of their customers was bribing customs to stop inspecting their containers and if it weren’t for one of the victims escaping and going to the American authorities, their crimes would have continued.

The stock value plummeted and most of the shareholders cashed out before it became worthless. Those that remained argued that breaking up the company was the best way to salvage it. Pellegrino, already a member of the board, fought against it and tried to buy out their shares but lacked the capital. When he heard Jensen was interested, he begged the remaining shareholders not to sell to him. He argued that regardless of Jensen’s pristine reputation, Jensen would gut the company.

Pellegrino wasn’t wrong. Jensen had no interest in getting into the shipping and imports business but he did value the opportunity to expand his brand in the overseas markets. He thought he could scrap the company for parts while redirecting its customers to more reputable businesses. Jensen would leave a little richer with a few more connections and a few more enemies.

When he finished buying out everyone panicked enough to sell to him at an embarrassingly low price, he held the majority share. He called a board meeting and laid out his plan. He told them the best way to keep the company solvent was increasing their overseas investments. This way Jensen could get them to do the groundwork while he worked behind the scenes to dismantle the mess.

The board members were more than eager to put his plan into action. The only one who understood his con was Pellegrino and he was in no position to challenge him. As Pellegrino was the one who negotiated the contract with the traffickers, the remaining board blamed him for the fallout. Jensen had his suspicions about Pellegrino's involvement but his investigators never found proof he profited from the trafficking. It didn't mean it didn't exist, just that Pellegrino may have hidden it well.

That was five months ago. Jensen knew any sign that he was being disingenuous and actually working to undermine the company would make the board members nervous and jump ship early. He and Pellegrino kept up appearances but Jensen knew Pellegrino was working hard to stop him.

It seemed Pellegrino had discovered the one thing that would make Jensen back off.

Jared.

Alona came back carrying bags of Chinese and they spent the rest of the evening going over everything he’d been neglecting since he took Jared.

Before they separated for the evening, Jensen asked Alona to send in his personal shopper in the morning. There were things he wanted to get Jared. Things Jared needed and things he hoped would make him more comfortable. Misha was right; he was never letting Jared go.

Jensen had his driver take him to his penthouse and when he entered he knew immediately that something was wrong. His housekeeper was cleaning up broken glass and much of his furniture was gone.

“What happened,” he asked without greeting.

“There was a break-in last night. I came by this morning at my usual time and found the door partially open. When I entered I found the place ransacked. Furniture torn open, drawers dumped out. I spent most of the day having the furniture removed, cleaning up the mess,” Mrs. Harrison said.

“You didn’t call the police,” Jensen asked.

“Of course not, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen nodded in approval. “Good. You took pictures before cleaning everything up?”

“Yes, Mr. Ackles.”

“Very good, Mrs. Harrison. You did well. Where are the pictures?”

Mrs. Harrison handed him a thumb drive and Jensen headed toward his office. He was surprised to find all the electronics intact. His laptop sat where he left it. A flat screen mounted on the wall showed no signs someone tried to remove it. Whatever they broke in for, it wasn’t about money. He made a note to talk with security and the building manager to see if they had footage of everyone entering and leaving the elevator. He would also have a word with the doorman.

Jensen took out his cell phone and dialed Misha. He picked up after the first ring.

“Goddamnit, Jensen. I said everything is fine!”

“Someone broke into my apartment last night.”

He heard Misha suck in a breath, heard him opening a door and calling for Chris.

“What was taken?”

“I don’t know. My housekeeper took photographs before cleaning everything up. I’m going to look through them to see which room they focused on. My office seems untouched but like I said, I haven’t seen the pictures.”

“Do you think this was some random burglary?”

“It doesn’t appear that anything of value was taken.”

“And you don’t keep records of your properties there?’

“Of course not, Misha. Just like I don’t leave my bank card laying around or keep a list of passwords taped to the bottom of my desk.”

“Sarcasm isn’t helping.”

“Says you.”

“Do you need me to come there?”

“No. Stay with Jared.”

Jensen could tell Misha was trying to reign in his anger by the uncomfortable silence that followed. “You need to stop worrying about Jared and start worrying about more important things. He’s become a liability you can't afford.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“Jensen, please be reasonable.”

“Misha, stop. Your job is to keep Jared safe. Do it.” With that, Jensen hung up.

He opened his laptop, plugged in the thumb drive and started going through the pictures. It became clear almost immediately that the ransacking was staged, meant to distract from whatever they were searching for.

After an hour of looking at lots of uninformative destruction, Jensen saw something that caught his eye. A manila envelope was tossed in among the pile of torn up books, the name of the investigator hired to follow Jared emblazoned in the corner.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, Jensen opened his desk drawer and discovered what they must have been looking for missing. The reports and photographs of Jared were gone, along with evidence of Jessica's infidelity. Fuck.

Jensen dialed the number of the investigator but got a message that the number was out of service. He sent a text message to Alona to tell her he needed details of how the guy was paid. He knew he probably paid in cash but there was always a chance that it was a money transfer to a specific account.

Having done all that he could do for the night, Jensen went to his bedroom. There were a few pictures of drawers having been turned over and clothes pulled off hangers in the closet but for the most part, as in the case of the rest of the apartment, nothing of value was disturbed or stolen. Even his collection of fine watches was there.

This was all about Jared. Everything in his life had become about Jared since he first saw his enchanting dimpled smile.

Jensen took his clothes off and got into bed. He lay there thinking about Jared, the way his body bowed when Jensen took him into his mouth. The way he moaned, the way he begged for release, and finally the sounds he made when he filled Jensen's mouth with come.

Just the memory of it had Jensen licking his lips, gripping and stroking his hard cock. He imagined Jared's tight heat, the way he'd cant his pelvis to allow Jensen to get deeper, fuck him harder. Jared would beg, “Faster, Jensen. Fuck me,” and Jensen would oblige. His frantic pace pushing the air out of Jared's lungs, make his breathing labored, make him dig his heels into the mattress so he could meet every one of Jensen's thrusts.

Jensen came, his rapid heartbeat pulsing in time with his release and Jared's name a whispered prayer on his lips.


	10. Chapter 10

Jensen was coming back.

And Jared had a choice to make.

As he ran the length of the beach, the sun on his shoulder, and soft wet sand beneath his feet, he thought about the various things he’d overheard the last week. Much, he’s certain, said for his benefit. Some of it meant only for the listener.

Jensen was in New York. There had been a break-in at his apartment. A man named Pellegrino wasn't happy. Alona got the message. Other things - the employer was talking, the chemist warned Jensen, Henry is on the run - made Jared suspect Jensen's men spoke in some kind of code.

They didn't seem to mind Jared overhearing their conversations and it made him all the more fearful that he wouldn't get off the island alive.

They'd stopped drugging him. And though he felt sick for the first few days, he was relieved he hadn't developed some kind of addiction. Going through detox after - if - he was let go was something he didn't want. Not only would it be painful, it would mean his chances of becoming a lawyer would be non-existent.

The men he had been introduced to, Chad and Chris, treated him with a mix of pity, hostility, and contempt. Chris seemed to still be holding a grudge, and evident bruising, from Jared breaking his nose. Chad made no effort to hide his complete lack of faith in Jensen's current ability to think rationally, blaming Jared for being the focus of his obsession.

Jared wanted to tell him that if he knew of a way to end Jensen's obsession he was 100% on board but that would mean revealing his eavesdropping and he didn't want to lose what little leverage knowing their secrets might gain. Now that he was in charge of his mental faculties, he needed to stay focused on finding a way to freedom.

Chad seemed to have the most to say about his presence. None of it good.

“Jensen is putting us all at risk. That kid’s family may be broke but that doesn't mean they don't have connections that would hunt us down like dogs if his grandmother finds out he's missing.”

Misha had hissed, “Lower your voice and keep your opinions to yourself. Jensen knows what he’s doing.”

Jared heard Chad mumble something unintelligible and slam the door as he returned to the barracks.

The barracks were interesting. They consisted of a small group of buildings near the center of the island located next to a satellite tower and close to the helicopter pad. There was a military style obstacle course, an outdoor shooting range, and a pool.

Jared saw three other men on the island besides Misha, Chris, and Chad and he wondered why Jensen needed so much security. When he asked Misha he was told, “Not everyone likes Jensen as much as you do.” Given the fact that Jared hated the bastard, he wasn't surprised that others might want to kill him.

Jared now had almost complete freedom to move about the island. Aside from an ever present shadow, Chris, he was allowed to come and go as he pleased. He woke early for his run, returned for breakfast and lunch, and ate his dinner on the porch as he watched the sunset.

Though he enjoyed cooking, Misha cooked most of his meals. When Jared asked if Misha was Jensen's chef, Chad snorted and said, “More like his wife.” Then Chris added, “And we know how well that worked out for the last one.”

This seemed to anger Misha and he left the kitchen without saying a word.

Jensen had an impressive library and an eclectic DVD collection. Jared was also allowed to use a computer with supervision but when Chris caught him looking up the name Pellegrino, he was told to mind his own fucking business and go find something else to do.

He spent much of his time on the beach, the breathtaking view of the ocean and the clean, clear blue water a stark contrast to the light polluted skies of home. He lay out on a hammock and marveled at the star filled night sky. He felt like he was living in a time before man had dominion over the earth, and at the edge of the world. He loved and hated the comfort that brought him. He fought any attempt his mind made to be ok with his captivity.

But thoughts of why he was on the island always brought him back to Jensen.

The worst part of thinking about Jensen? It made him instantly, painfully hard. He tried to imagine anyone else, old lovers, men and women he'd seen in porn but none of them could make his skin burn and beg the way Jensen could. Jared knew it was a side-effect of the drug and his weeks of conditioning but he couldn't stop.

He wanted Jensen as much as he hated him.

He was still trying to figure out where he was. A helicopter can travel at max roughly 300 miles without refueling, so Jensen would need a location with either a refueling station or an airfield to transfer to his private plane. Jared's knowledge of small Caribbean islands was lacking but if Jensen had his own private one it was probably located in the Turks and Caicos, making Puerto Rico the most likely place for Jensen's plane. None of this helped him figure out a way to escape but thinking about it made Jared feel like he wasn't just giving up.

Part of him, the part that remembers the sex haze he existed in when Jensen had him drugged, ached to feel Jensen's mouth on him again. He'd never been so aroused, never so desperate and needy. And Jensen's complete focus on giving him pleasure without taking his own confused and frustrated him. Aside from their last encounter, Jensen didn't even remove his clothes. So why did he keep him here if he wasn't even getting sexual gratification out of it? None of it made sense.

Maybe fucking Jensen would help both of them get over this strange, unhealthy addiction.

Misha had told Chris Jensen was worried about Jared's safety and Chris had responded, “Jensen should worry about his own.” When Misha didn't disagree, he began to wonder just how loyal Jensen's men were.

He hadn't forgotten his conversation with Misha and his advice that Jared should pretend to care for Jensen just so he'd let him go. He had an irrational desire to scold Misha for his disloyalty, which brought him back to his confusing feelings for Jensen. From everything he'd heard about Jensen's bizarre behavior with regards to him, he didn't think toying with the man’s affection would work out well in the long run.

And as Misha had said, he was living in a den of murderers and thieves who clearly thought his presence was a danger to them.

So what to do? Give Jensen what he wants and hope for the best? Or continue to resist and risk the chance of a repeat of their last encounter? Jared honestly didn't know.

As he saw a speck of dark on the horizon get larger, he realized he was out of time.

Jensen was home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chris, Chad, and Misha were waiting for Jensen on the tarmac when he exited the helicopter. With Alois’ warning still fresh in his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder which one of them was the traitor.

He’d known all of them for some time, with Misha being the longest.

Misha and Jensen met in college when Misha was studying to be a lawyer and Jensen was working on his MBA. They didn’t hit it off right away. In fact, Misha disliked Jensen so much he petitioned the school’s board of ethics to get him expelled for plagiarism.

It all stemmed from a paper Jensen had written about the corrupting influence of corporate law. Misha’s fiancee, Felicia, was studying corporate law, and he felt Jensen had failed to attribute some of his findings to the research she had done. Misha would later discover it was the other way around. She had copied Jensen’s work. It didn’t stop the both of them from actively crusading against him, and in the end, the dispute was only settled when Jensen confronted Misha at his apartment and ended up fucking him over the couch. The next day Misha went to the board, told them it was all a big misunderstanding and withdrew his petition. Felicia never forgave him for it.

They never spoke about that day. And Misha to this day claims he’s completely heterosexual but Jensen has his doubts. Misha’s always seemed to hate anyone Jensen dated, regardless of how superficial the relationship.

Jensen met Chad when he discovered Felicia had hired him to kill Misha. Their marriage had always been rocky but when Misha’s career began to flourish and her's floundered, her jealousy became too much to hide. She blamed Jensen for corrupting him, told Misha he had to make a choice. Her or Jensen. And while Misha was one of Jensen’s best lawyers, they had developed a friendship that transcended business. Misha told her she’d never stop making those kinds of demands if he caved, and she left with the threat that he’d regret it.

Jensen knew all sorts of bad men who did bad things, and word got back to him that Felicia was looking to hire an assassin. Jensen was given Chad’s name and contact information and offered Chad twice what she did to kill her instead. Chad accepted the offer and slit Felicia’s throat in the parking garage of a mall. Misha was the first suspect, of course, and without Jensen’s false alibi, it was likely he would have been charged regardless of the lack of evidence.

Jensen and Chad parted ways after that but several years later Jensen heard Chad was arrested on conspiracy to commit murder. It was actually one of the few times he wasn’t guilty. Fearful that Chad might use the information he had on Jensen to make a deal, Jensen hired a team of investigators and the best lawyer he could find to clear Chad’s name. He hadn’t anticipated doing so would win him the affections and loyalty of the vicious hitman.

Jensen’s relationship with Chris was more straightforward. Chris was a mercenary for hire and Jensen had a need. While they maintained a bit of professional distance at first, Jensen found Chris to be decent company and invited him along as security on many of his international outings. When Chris’ brother was in a car accident, Jensen paid all of his hospital bills, and after that Chris started to travel with Jensen for free, occasionally leaving for a few weeks at a time to work other jobs.

Jensen knew they all had a problem with Jared. He just didn’t know which one of them would use it as an excuse to betray him.

His personal shopper, Genevieve, had gone above and beyond when procuring items that might make Jared more comfortable. He bought him a full wardrobe, a set of expensive electronics, and a new satellite phone he hoped Jared would use to call his grandmother and not the authorities. It was a big risk but so was kidnapping the man.

To this day, he’s still not sure why he’d done it. His philosophy has always been: See. Want. Take. But it never applied to humans until Jared. Now that he had Jared under his control, it was impossible to think about letting him go. Jensen understood all the reasons his men gave him for why he should - and they were right - but it didn’t change what he knew to be true. Jared was his.

“Hey, boss,” Chad said, offering a mocking salute.

“Jensen,” Misha chimed in, while Chris just went about ordering Carlos and his team to unload the aircraft and take the items up to the house.

“Chris is in a good mood, I see,” Jensen said, handing his carry-on to Matt.

“His internet girlfriend broke up with him last night,” Chad snickered.

“I thought that was a joke,” Jensen laughed.

“Nope. They’ve been ‘dating’,” Chad said in air quotes, “for a few months. Last night she told him he wasn’t worth her time and he’s been whining like a lovesick teenager ever since.”

“Fuckers, I’m standing right here,” Chris snarled.

Jensen laughed and started toward the house. “Where’s Jared?”

He was met with a silence that had him fearful for Jared’s life. Then, seeing that they were making Jensen uncomfortable, Misha said, “Where he usually is. On the beach.”

Jensen nodded and headed that way, ignoring the angered silence he left in his wake.

Jensen found Jared in a hammock strung between two palm trees, one of his gorgeous long legs dangling off the side. There was no way he hadn’t heard the helicopter or seen Jensen approach but he still kept his head buried in a book like Jensen didn’t exist.

“Hello, Jared,” Jensen said, hoping the memory of their last encounter wasn’t as fresh in Jared’s mind as it was his.

“Jensen,” Jared said without looking up.

“How have you been,” Jensen asked.

“Imprisoned. You?”

Jensen sighed. Looked to the object in his hands and made the biggest gamble of his life.

“Here,” Jensen said, holding the satellite phone out in hopes it would make Jared look up.

It did. Seeing Jared’s hazel eyes never failed to take the breath out of him. But seeing him like this, bare-chested and skin freshly sun-kissed, made him want to drop to his knees and worship every inch of him.

“What’s this,” Jared asked, looking at the phone with suspicion and confusion.

“It’s yours. I want you to have it. So you can call your grandmother… or maybe your friends.”

Jensen watched the range of emotions flash across Jared’s face and wondered, a bit hysterically if they would land on an emotion that was like a combination of winning numbers on a slot machine.

“Why,” Jared asked, tersely.

“I’ve already taken so much away from you. And I plan to take more. I can’t offer you your freedom but I can make being here more bearable.”

Jensen held his breath, waited.

Jared took the phone carefully, not quite certain Jensen wouldn’t snatch it away from him, and tucked it next to his side. Then he returned his attention to his book.

Jensen sighed again, shook his head and walked toward the house. Before he was completely out of earshot he heard Jared say, “It won’t work.”

Turning, Jensen asked, “What?”

“The phone. It won’t work. I’m not going to let you fuck me.”

“That’s not what this is about, Jared.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because Jared set his book down and stood up quickly. “No? Kidnapping me, drugging me. Keeping me here? What’s it about then, Jensen. Because I don’t see us starting a book club.”

Jensen started toward Jared but thought better of it. Jared was a big man, bigger than Jensen, and when he wasn’t completely high, capable of beating Jensen to a pulp. Jensen wasn’t quite sure he wouldn’t let him. He knew he wouldn’t let his guards intervene.

“The phone isn’t about getting you to have sex with me,” Jensen said before Jared interrupted.

“Good, because it’s never going to happen.”

Jensen nodded, suddenly feeling heavy and defeated. He had no idea what he expected. No idea what he was doing. “You’re right. It won’t. I won’t touch you again until you want it.”

“Then it’ll happen sometime after an eternity of never.”

Jensen nodded and turned back toward the house. Behind him, he heard Jared say, “Grandma, it’s me. Jared.”

It suddenly occurred to Jensen that the only person on the island he could truly trust at that moment was the man he kidnapped. A man who hated him. A man he’d just given a weapon that could destroy him. Jensen was well and truly fucked.


	12. Chapter 12

Rose Padalecki was having a bad day.

A few years after his grandfather’s death, Jared’s grandmother began to display the early stages of early-onset Alzheimer's. At first, Jared believed it was a reaction to the stress of losing her husband.

She began to have trouble with word choice, remembering the names of people she’d just met, losing her phone, the house keys. As it progressed, the symptoms worsened. She’d look at photographs around the house and ask Jared who the people were, she became agitated and suspicious, would go out for groceries and get lost on the way, or buy them and forget them in the car.

It wasn’t until a neighbor found her wandering in their garden at 3 am that Jared realized it was more than clinical depression. He took her to doctors and they went through months of tests and misdiagnoses. When they finally had the right diagnosis, her first thought was for Jared. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Today, Jared felt all alone.

“Grandma, it’s me. Jared.”

“I’m sorry, who is this? I don’t have a grandson.”

Jared had been through this with her before but in the past, it was in person or he was just a short drive away. He’d bring photographs and video of her life. Tell her the story of herself like the great adventure it was. She’d relax and laugh, say, “Oh god, whoever let me wear those pants should be imprisoned” or “That man you say I married was quite the looker. I can see how you two are related.”

Spells like this could last anywhere from a few hours to a few days, and Jared would stay with her for as long as she’d let him.

Today, however, he was stuck on an island and was nothing more to her than a confusing, disembodied voice. Eventually, tiring of his attempts to explain himself, she told him she’d heard enough and hung up.

After everything Jared had been through he found himself too numb to cry. He picked up the book he’d been reading and headed back to the house. One of Jensen’s henchmen, he didn’t bother to see which, saw the phone in his hand and made a grab for it.

“Where the fuck did you get that,” Chad exclaimed.

Chad. It’s psycho Chad today.

“Jensen gave it to me.”

“Bullshit. You stole it from one of us. Give it back or I’ll break your fucking...”

Before Chad could continue, Jensen ran in and asked, “What’s all the commotion?”

Chad said, “Your piece of ass here stole a phone. I’m just retrieving it.”

Jensen moved between them, put a restraining hand on Chad’s chest and said, “He didn’t steal it. I gave it to him.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Jensen? That phone is a traceable link to the island. One call and all of us will end up in prison,” Chad yelled, pushing against Jensen’s hand and making another grab for the phone.

“Back off, Chad. I gave it to him. It’s been in his possession for a few hours. If he were going call anyone, he already did.”

Chad punched Jensen, sending him flying into Jared’s chest. Just then Misha and Chris ran in to see what all the yelling was about and Chad lifted his fist to hit Jensen again.

Chris quickly restrained him. “Hey now, that’s not the way we settle arguments among friends.”

“Fuck you, Chris. Jensen gave the kid a phone.”

That made everyone stop and stare at Jared. Jared was too far gone to care. He stared back, neither in fear or challenge.

“What the hell could you be thinking,” Misha asked. “We could all end up in prison for this!”

Pulling himself out of Jared’s arms - Jared wasn’t even aware he’d caught Jensen as he was falling - Jensen turned to his friends, positioned himself between them and Jared.

To Misha, he said, “Prison? I seem to remember being the reason you’re not in prison.” Then, looking at Chad, “Both of you.”

Chris looked pointedly at Jared and said, “Don’t you think we should be having this conversation in private?”

“Why,” Jensen asked. “You already think I should kill him. What’s it matter him knowing about a few more of the despicable things we’ve done?”

That, Jared quickly realized, Jensen should not have said.

Everyone started yelling at once, each accusing Jensen of trying to ruin them, destroy everything they’d built together. Jensen would deflect, try to defend his actions, tell them that any decision about Jared would be made by him, but the shouting continued.

Jared remembered the sweet, confused voice of his grandmother, the woman who’d raised him, asking who he was and started to laugh. His life was so completely out of control that the only person in existence that cared if he lived or died at that moment was the man who’d kidnapped him. His laugh started small but built until he was bending over, tears streaming down his face.

The men stopped shouting, anger giving way to a confusion.

“What’s so fucking funny,” Chris asked.

Jared hiccupped and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Nothing. Nothing at all. I’ll be in my room if you decide you’re ready to kill me.”

He didn’t bother looking at the stunned silent group as he walked away.

Jared heard the yelling pick up as he clicked his door shut.

The sight that greeted him when he turned around was startling, to say the least.

The bed, dresser, and floor were covered in boxes and bags. Jared looked through a few of them and realized they were clothes. Expensive clothes in his size. This shit was meant for him.

Going through several more bags and tossing the clothes in a pile, Jared found a bag that contained a laptop, tablet, and an iPod with a docking station.

What the fuck?

There was a post it attached to the top of the laptop box. The wifi password.

If Jensen’s friends were pissed before, Jared feared they wouldn’t bother to ask for permission to kill him if they saw all this.

Jared sat on the bed, his fingers landing on a pair of fine linen pants, and felt his reality shift once more. These are the kinds of things he would have had had Jensen not bankrupted his grandfather’s company. Jensen was offering him the same life he’d callously stolen away.

Jared had a brief desire to smash and tear everything up. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be on an island that felt like paradise at the edge of the world. Didn’t want to be gifted things that should rightfully be his. Jensen took all this away from him once before, and now he was trying to use it to buy his affections.

Jared picked up the laptop with the intention of throwing it at the wall when something he hadn’t seen attached to the box fell on the floor.

It was a thumb drive. Curious, he took the laptop out, plugged it in and booted it up. What he saw on the drive made him weep.

Hundreds of photographs. Pictures of his grandparents, him playing soccer, he and his grandmother outside the Louvre, he and his grandfather on jet skis on the lake by the cabin they used to own. There were photographs he’d never seen before. His parents’ wedding pictures, his mother on campus at Stanford, his father sitting at his grandfather’s desk in the office at the old headquarters.

Why? Why would Jensen give this to him? Was it some kind of torture? A new way to make him feel cut off from a life he’d lost? A life Jensen wasn’t going to let him return to?

Or was this Jensen’s misguided attempt at giving him something he thought he needed. A reminder of home when he was so far away from it.

Jared heard a knock on the door and knew it was Jensen.

“Come in, Jensen.”

Jensen opened the door and closed it quietly behind him.

“Come for a quickie before your friends finish me off,” Jared asked.

Jensen sighed and held out his hand. “Here, I thought you could use one.”

Jared took the proffered beer bottle and laughed when Jensen handed him a bottle opener. Sheepishly, Jensen said, “I figured you’d feel better about opening it yourself.”

Jared snickered, took the opener and opened the beer. He took a deep pull and said, “It’s good.”

Jensen nodded, looked around at the mess Jared had made of his gifts, and cleared a pathway to the small couch by the window.

“I’m sorry about that, out there, what they were saying. I’m sorry. I’d never let them hurt you.”

Jared didn’t respond. He watched Jensen nervously fidget with a shirt Jared had tossed on the armrest.

“I…,” Jensen began. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. With you. I don’t know what…”

“Jensen, if you’ve come for advice on how best to keep me captive, you’re shit out of luck.”

Jensen ran his fingers through his spiky hair. It looked soft.

“That's not… I don't… My friends…”

Jared's snort had Jensen looking up. He raised a curious eyebrow.

“Friends, right. Because a bunch of mercenaries are so trustworthy.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jensen asked, “What do you mean?”

Jared let out a deep breath and looked Jensen over. He was a handsome, intelligent, and successful. If they'd met as strangers for the first time at that benefit, it's not hard for Jared to imagine they'd end up in Jensen's bed, in spite of Jess. Or maybe because of her. He loved her but he was never in love with her.

This Jensen, the Jensen of his childhood who made his family's life hell, this version filled Jared with such uncontrollable anger that it was difficult to see passed. But he had to. If he were going to get off this island alive, he had to trust Jensen. They were both in too much danger to do otherwise.

“If I were you, I wouldn't trust a single one of them.”

Jensen stilled, “Why would you say that?”

Jared took a deep breath and rolled the dice. “Who is Pellegrino and what did the chemist warn you about?”

Jensen's eyes widened, he shot off the couch into Jared's space and put a hand over Jared's mouth. Jared was just about to push it away when Jensen shook his head, tapped his ear and looked toward the door.

Nodding his understanding, Jared moved back and away from Jensen. The look of barely disguised panic made Jensen seem fragile and Jared had to fight down the urge to offer comfort.

He needed Jensen to get him off the island and Jensen had to be alive to do it. That was it.

Jensen looked at the laptop, saw Jared had found the thumb drive, and returned to sitting on the couch.

Jensen ran his hands over his face, looked at Jared as if he were trying to decide something and said, “In Foster Care, no one ever takes your picture. Sure, the social worker will update the one in your file every so often but the foster parents, some of them, go through so many kids that they don't seem to understand the point.”

Surprised by the abrupt change in topic, Jared pushed a pile of clothes away and sat on the bed. He took sips from his beer and let Jensen's words fill the silence.

“It's hard to remember your own history, your own development as a person, when there's no one there to remind you, to remember you for you. Pictures help with that. You can look at a picture and say when I was that age I… “

Jensen looked up and saw Jared was listening. He continued.

“Many Foster Care kids don't have that. The people they live with can't tell them about the day they were born, what their first word was, how long it took them to walk. It's like each time a child is moved from one home to the next, their history is erased. You get the freedom of being someone new but also have to endure the reality that there's no one in your life that would know the difference.”

Jared felt his heart rate pick up, his conversation with his grandmother fresh in his mind.

“I thought having your pictures would help you remember.”

“Remember what, Jensen?”

“Home. I never really had that.”

Jared was speechless.

Jensen stood and walked to the door. Before opening it he said, “I won't give you up but I promise I'll keep you safe.”

Jared looked at the closed door and realized something that made this all the more complicated.

Jensen was in love with him.


	13. Chapter 13

“What is that God awful sound, Jensen,” Alona asked.

Jensen held the satellite phone to one ear and held his hand over the other, kicking at Jared’s door.

“That is Genevieve's good idea backfiring. Hang on.”

Jensen muffled the phone and spoke at Jared's door. “If you don't want me to come in, you'll turn that shit off.”

Getting no response, Jensen tried the handle of the door and found it unlocked. “Jared,” he called out. Jensen spotted the Mp3 player and ran to turn it off. He stopped just short of tossing it against the wall. Turning to confront Jared he found the bed hadn't been slept in. “That sonofabitch.”

Able to once again hear Jensen clearly, Alona asked, “What's going on? What was all that?”

“I'm going to have to call you back, Al,” Jensen said, hanging up without waiting for a response.

Shaking his head, Jensen left the room and headed toward the beach.

He found Jared asleep in a hammock, large noise canceling headphones covering his ears. He was tempted to take the headphones off and start singing at the top of his lungs. Though there really was no way to pay someone back for blasting the soundtrack to Les Miserables on repeat for 12 hours. Jensen might be bad but Jared was diabolical.

After fighting with Misha, Chad, and Chris for hours, Jared grew tired of the shouting and started playing the wretched album at full volume. Chad had to restrain Chris from kicking in Jared's door and shooting - Jared or the player. Misha said Jensen should just turn it off and Jensen informed Misha he was done making Jared do things against his will. This started off a new round of yelling, ending with Misha and Chris dragging an infuriated Chad to the barracks. None of them came back.

Now, running on the sleep he had on the plane almost 36 hours ago, Jensen was beginning to reconsider his new Jared policy. He really wanted to strangle the kid. Instead, he stood there looking at his handsome face, the way the barely there light of the rising sun played across his cheeks and stubbled jaw.

Even asleep, Jared was stunning.

Jensen imagined kneeling in the sand next to the hammock, pushing off the ridiculous headphones and waking Jared with a kiss. Jared would wrap his arms around him and open up his mouth, pull Jensen on top of him, wrap his long sun-tanned legs...

“Jensen, if you're going to just stand there, couldn't you at least be useful and bring me a cup of coffee,” Jared interrupted Jensen's daydreaming, his eyes still closed.

“Ah, sure,” Jensen said, weirdly embarrassed after everything. “How do you take it?”

“In my favorite cafe in Palo Alto, surrounded by friends. Since I'm stuck here with you, make it something sweet and complicated. Something that takes up a lot of your time.”

Jensen huffed and headed back towards the house. “Coming right up,” he tossed out over his shoulder.

Jared opened one eye and said, “Do you have to be so chipper? I didn't sleep well.”

Jensen had a brief flash of kissing Jared anyway, just to shut him up. He rubbed his temple and kept walking.

He called Alona back as soon as he made it to the kitchen.

“Jensen,” Alona said, “You had me worried. What was that all about?”

Jensen pulled out the carafe and started filling it with water, then poured it into the coffee pot’s well. “Nothing. Where are we at with the break-in?"

Alona hesitated, obviously wanting to know more but dropped it in favor of getting back to business. “All the security footage was destroyed and the doorman on that day was filling in for a sick co-worker. He said he didn't let anyone in who didn't have a key or wasn't on the approved visitor's list.”

“Did anyone else report a break-in or lost or stolen keys?” Jensen put the carafe in the machine and began to fill the filter with coffee grounds.

“No official break-ins reported, though if your neighbors are as paranoid about their privacy as you are, they wouldn't have called the police either.”

Jensen set the coffee pot to brew and pulled out two travel mugs.

“For all we know, the men who broke into your apartment were your neighbors.”

“But you don't think so.” He looked out the kitchen window and watched the sun rise, an explosion of light painting the oceanic horizon in yellows and golds.

“No. Timing is too conspicuous. Which makes this all the more baffling. From what you said, Pellegrino already knows about Jared. Why go after files when he already knows the contents?”

Jensen shook his head and rubbed his hand down his tired face. He needed a shower and a shave.

“Jensen,” Alona asked.

He hadn't realized he'd been quiet for so long. “Yeah, I'm here. We need to consider the possibility that Pellegrino had nothing to do with it. What did you find out about the money? I paid two other PIs besides Henry to look into Jared. Have you been able to locate them?”

“Yes. Both reported getting calls from a woman who refused to identify herself asking if you were a client and if they'd ever investigated Jared.”

Jensen yawned a bit and eyed the still brewing coffee. “How did they respond?”

“Mattis told her he wasn't permitted to share confidential client information and Howard told her, politely, to fuck herself.”

Jensen chuckled. “Howard always did have a way with the ladies. And Henry? Any idea why he fled?”

Jensen thought he heard Alona typing on a keyboard. “Everything in Mr. Ross’ life was perfectly normal up until two weeks ago. His partner told me he started to receive phone calls late at night, and he started leaving the house wearing a bulletproof vest.”

“What? Why? Henry is strictly a low-level PI; fake insurance claims, cheating spouses. I’ve only asked him to do a few in depth background checks. Do you think his disappearance has anything to do with me?”

“His partner does. She refused to say much but she did say she wished he’d never taken the job from you,” Alona said. “Ah, one other thing.” Jensen heard her clicking keys get more excited. “He asked to be paid into an account his partner doesn’t have access to.”

“So, maybe he ran small spy jobs separately and didn’t want to share profits.”

“No, Jensen. He opened the account specifically to take payments from you - and only you.”

Jensen sighed. He hated complications. “Any idea where he went? Or why?”

“None, I’m afraid.”

Nodding to himself, Jensen continued, “Alright. Keep looking into it. Ask Mattis and Howard to find him.”

“Will do.” Jensen heard Alona open a cabinet, sharpen a pencil.

“And Pellegrino? Any chance you've found a connection between him and the trafficking ring? I can’t think of any other reason why he’s trying to hold on to that shitty company.”

“Same as before. Bank records don't show any obvious red flags. He has a Cayman islands account but he did such a poor job of hiding it that it's got to be a front. And you’re right about PS International. I’ve read the financials. He’s been losing money since he first invested.”

Jensen nodded to himself, saw that the coffee was ready and filled the two travel mugs, adding two pumps of vanilla creamer to Jared’s.

“Jensen?”

“Sorry, Al. I'm tired. I need to rest before I can think about this clearly.” Placing the phone between his head and shoulder, Jensen headed back outside.

Once he was on the sand and far away from the house, he said, “I need you to pull up the financial records of a few more people.” After rattling their names off, he heard Alona suck in a breath.

“Jensen. What’s going on?”

Seeing Jared had taken off the headphones and sat up, Jensen handed him a coffee mug. Jared eyed it suspiciously but took it anyway.

“What's with the travel mug? You have a commute to get to?”

“Sand.”

Jared raised an eyebrow.

“It gets everywhere. There are few things worse than sandy coffee.”

Jared hummed and took a sip. He smiled at nothing and returned to ignoring Jensen.

“Jensen,” Alona repeated, trying to regain his attention.

Looking back at the house, Jensen realized he didn’t want to go in. He sat on the sand next to Jared’s hammock.

“Nothing. Just see what you can find. See if there are any payments for large sums, specifically those without corresponding work, in the last 6 months. And if possible, if any of them can be traced back to Pellegrino.”

Alona was quiet for a beat, then said, “You think one of them is a traitor.”

“I don’t know. But be discreet. All of them will have some kind of alarm set to their accounts if anyone goes poking around.”

Alona gave a small laugh, “You don’t hire stupid people.”

Shaking his head, Jensen responded, “No, I don’t.”

“Ok, I’ll look into it and get back to you. What do you want to do with the Jameson deal?”

“Shelve it for now. I’ve got too much on my plate for a takeover that would net me less than 200 million.”

“Understood. I’ll get back to you on the other thing.”

“Thanks, Alona.” Just before Jensen said goodbye, “And take care of yourself. Watch your back.”

“You too, boss,” she replied, ending the call.

Jared, no longer pretending to be ignoring him said, “You need to be more careful. For both our sakes.”

That got Jensen's attention. “Of what?”

“Who you piss off. Not everyone on this island is your friend.”

Taking a sip of coffee too fast and burning his tongue, Jensen swore. “So you’ve said. Care to elaborate?”

“I heard them talking. Lots about you, stuff that sounded like it was in code,” Jared replied.

The coffee soured on his burnt tongue. “Can you be more specific?”

“Not without making them want to kill me more than they already do.”

Setting his travel mug in the sand, Jared stood up. He lifted his long arms over his tall frame and stretched. The bare glimpse of skin peeking out beneath the hem of the t shirt distracted Jensen and he found his tired brain reaching out to touch.

Jared batted his hand away.

Startled out of his lust haze, Jensen looked up to Jared’s cloaked expression. Then lower still to Jared’s tented shorts. Jared was aroused.

Jared picked up his coffee and sat back down on the hammock. “It’s too early for this shit, Jensen.”

Jared wasn’t wrong. If he had a choice between fucking Jared or taking a nap, Jensen might seriously consider taking the nap.

“I’m going to need to know what you overheard and who said what. If you think I’m in danger, then you’re in danger.”

Jared’s expression was a mix of incredulity and astonishment. “As opposed to the danger I was already in? Kidnapped, drugged, bound to the bed to serve at the whims of a manic sociopath?”

Jensen rolled his eyes. Jared had a point but still, they had larger concerns. “Are you still going on about that?”

“Yes, Jensen. I’m still 'going on about that’,” he emphasized with air quotes. “Surprisingly, the topic of my abduction is still fresh on my mind.”

Jensen laughed, “You’re a very sensitive captive.”

Jared set his coffee down and slowly got up of off the hammock. He hovered over Jensen, head titled to the side - examining. Jensen had a second to be afraid before Jared was jumping on him, wrestling with him to the ground. Jared’s large athletic body easily pinned Jensen’s tired one, flipping Jensen on his stomach and binding his hands above him, holding Jensen immobile with his weight. He felt Jared still, felt his hard cock drag between the cleft of his ass. Jensen held his breath, wondering what Jared would do.

The moment lasted too long. Jensen looked up and saw Misha heading his way.

Fuck.

Jensen wrestled in high school but regaining the upper hand was easier said than done. He was only able to get some leverage beneath him when Jared lifted off and moved to stand. Turning swiftly, Jensen swung his leg out, cutting Jared off at the ankle and causing him to fall backward. Taking advantage of Jared’s momentary stunned expression, Jensen climbed on top of him and settled himself between Jared’s legs, pinning Jared in much the same way he’d been pinned.

They both were panting, both aroused. Jensen dragged his denim covered cock over Jared’s. The thin material of Jared’s shorts making his cock free to easily respond to the subtle movements of Jensen’s hips. Jared gasped on one particular slow hard drag and Jensen saw him looking at Jensen’s lips. Jensen leaned in to kiss him just in time for Misha to arrive.

“Jensen. We need to talk.”

Growling, Jensen said, “Go away, Misha. I’m busy.”

Suddenly aware of the position they were in and that he was seconds away from letting Jensen kiss him, Jared pushed him off and scrambled to his feet.

“No, he’s not,” Jared said. Grabbing his headphones and coffee, he turned and walked back to the house, leaving an aroused and mightily pissed off Jensen behind.

“What the fuck is your problem, Misha? What couldn’t have waited 10 goddamn minutes?”

“If you planned on spending no more than 10 minutes fucking that kid, I did you both a favor.” Holding his hand out to Jensen, he helped pull Jensen up.

Seething, Jensen said as he dusted and straightened his clothes, “What is so important that you ruin the only chance I’ve had since I brought him here?”

“Shut up, Jensen. You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“None that included him wanting me back,” Jensen shouted, then looked up in time to see Jared turn, realize what Jensen said, and run the rest of the way to the house.

“Well, it’s done. Come on, Chris just picked up something off the wire you’re going to need to hear about.”

Sighing in resignation, Jensen followed. “What?”

“They just fished Henry Ross’ body out of the Hudson.”


	14. Chapter 14

Jensen wished he’d never heard of Mark Pellegrino.

“Why would someone kill Henry? He’s a low-level PI. A bit of a scumbag. I’ve hired him a few times for petty jobs,” Jensen said, dropping down on the oversized couch next to Chad.

Carlos sat off to the side, cleaning a weapon. Matt, Carlos’ assistant, was playing a game on his phone. It looked like Misha and Chris were having an eyebrow raising contest.

They were watching a New York news station report on the discovery of the body of local PI, Henry Ross. He’s said to have died from an execution style gunshot wound to the back of his head and the authorities questioned whether his murder has anything to do with the recent rise in mafia related crime.

An associate of Ross who requested not to be interviewed on camera said Ross had been exhibiting erratic behavior in recent weeks and had taken to sleeping at hotels. The local police chief said they were looking into anyone who had contact with him in the last month, including current and former clients.

“Shit,” Jensen said, muting the rest of the broadcast.

“If anything gets out about Ross’ investigation into Pellegrino, the police are going to call you in for questioning,” Chris said.

“Pellegrino? I didn't put Ross on Pellegrino. That was Mattis and Howard's job. The only thing I asked Henry to do, aside from some background checks on a few board members, was to look into Jared,” Jensen insisted.

“You did ask Henry to look into Pellegrino. I spoke with Alona right after you hung up with her and she confirmed it. He ran the first check into Pellegrino's possible ties with the trafficking ring right after you acquired the majority share of PSI,” Chad said. Motioning to Chris, “What was that you said, about Ross putting his earnings from Jensen in a separate account?”

“Right.” Chris nodded. “Shortly after you hired him, he called accounting and asked to change the bank routing number.”

As Jensen had just discovered this himself, he was surprised both Chad and Chris knew. Given what he’d asked Alona to look into, her sharing information with them before him was worrying. It reminded him that one of them was actively seeking to destroy him. Any other time he might have questioned the legitimacy of the Alois’ claim but Alois had nothing to gain by lying.

Jensen schooled his features and tried to be more alert. His lack of sleep was affecting his judgment.

“I don't remember asking him to look into Pellegrino and if he did, nothing came of it,” Jensen said.

Chad flicked his Benchmade knife open and closed, the movement mindless and automatic. “If you don't remember asking him, you probably never told him to stop. Maybe he kept looking and found something,” he added.

“If he did, why was he dodging my attempts to contact him,” Jensen asked, frustration mounting.

“Why did he create a separate account for your payments to him,” Chris deflected.

“I'd like to know what his death has to do with the break-in in my apartment. Henry's files on Jared were the only thing taken.” Jensen looked around the room, more careful to gauge everyone’s response.

Chris shrugged his shoulders. “I've contacted everyone I know in the business. Either it was an amateur job or no one is talking.”

“Is the same true about the hit on Henry Ross,” Jensen asked.

Chad spoke up, “If his death was my kind of unnatural, none of the men offered the job, nor the triggerman himself would talk about it. It's unprofessional.”

“Fantastic. Amateur burglars and honorable assassins. Any of you have more bad news to make my day?”

“A light aircraft has been circling the island for the past few days,” Carlos said. “They never come within range of the radar but I've set up a system that detects anomalous air traffic 30 miles outside the normal perimeter.”

Jensen slumped over, dangling his hands between his spread legs, and bowed his head.

“Right,” he said, taking a moment to collect himself. Lifting his head he looked directly at Misha. “Misha, contact your guy at the police department and see where they’re at with the investigation. We need to steer them away from anything that mentions me or Jared.”

Everyone in the room groaned.

“I wasn’t finished,” Jensen said. “Jared is a part of this whether you like it or not. Henry did most of the legwork on his background check. If someone was following Henry, they were also following what he was investigating. This might be how Pellegrino discovered my interest in Jared.”

“It doesn’t explain how he knows you have him,” Misha said.

“No, but that’s something Chad said he was looking into. Right, Chad?” Jensen turned his attention to Chad.

Chad nodded, flicking his blade closed and fisting it in his hand. “I’m looking into it. There’s only so much I can do from here. Outsourcing this kind of thing is delicate. Asking the wrong person the wrong question is the same as sharing information with them you don’t want them to know.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow.

Chad sighed. “If it gets around that I’m asking about some college kid I have no business knowing, it all but confirms my connection to him. And his to you through me. Pellegrino might just be guessing. Asking how he knows Jared is here is just confirming it.”

Jensen nodded, no more satisfied with the answer than he was able to dispute it. He didn’t want to add that Alois had already confirmed Pellegrino knew Jared was there without having to answer questions about what else Alois knew. Bringing that up would just piss Jensen off and he was too tired to trust he wouldn’t lash out at the first hint of disloyalty.

“Find out what you can. If you have to fly back to the US to do the work yourself, arrange a flight with Gray.”

Chad nodded. “That shouldn’t be necessary but I might take you up on the offer to head back to the states just so I can get away from your boyfriend.”

Everyone chuckled. Jensen glared.

“Moving on,” Jensen said. “A woman has been calling investigators asking if they work for me and if they’ve looked into Jared. I want to know who she is, what she wants and who she’s working for.”

“Where did you hear that Jensen,” Misha asked.

“Alona,” he replied. “Next. I need someone to find out who Henry Ross was hiding from. If it’s Pellegrino, find out whatever Henry learned that got him killed.”

“Thanks for pushing us onto the plank, boss,” Chris quipped.

“Is life as a mercenary not all you thought it’d be, Chris,” Jensen asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“Oh no. Sign me up to go digging into a subject that’s already gotten one idiot killed,” Chris snarked.

Laughing, Jensen said, “I pay you better than I paid the last idiot.”

Chris rolled his eyes and reached for an apple from a bowl on the table.

“Lastly, for now, find out who’s circling my island.”

Carlos nodded. “It could just be some rich asshole with a new pilot’s license hoping to catch a glimpse of naked celebrities.”

“Or,” Jensen interrupted, “it could be Pellegrino’s men doing recon before they storm the beach and shoot us in the head.”

“You’re fucking cheerful this morning,” Chad said.

Standing to leave, Jensen said, “I’m hungry. I haven’t slept. And I’m sick of this shit. If all this leads back to Pellegrino, I’ll kill him myself. Do your fucking jobs.”

Jensen was stopped at the door by Chris who said, “There was one other job you gave to Ross you haven’t mentioned.”

Turning back, Jensen asked, “And what was that?”

“Seducing Jessica Moore.”

Fuck.

He’d forgotten. But it might be useful.

“That information doesn’t leave this room, understood?”

A murmur of yeses followed and Jensen turned away before he was tempted to read their expressions.

He knew he was taking a big risk baiting his traitor like this but he had more than Jared’s affections on the line. Whoever was out to get him wouldn’t think twice about killing them all.

Jensen headed back to the house in search of a meal, shower, shave and a nap.

It was the first time he could think of when he hoped he wouldn’t run into Jared.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this last night but I had a bit of season finale depression. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jared’s knuckles hovered over Jensen’s bedroom door. He’d been standing there for close to five minutes trying to decide if waking Jensen was worth the effort for his goal. The goal - having someone to share dinner with - was feeling crazier the longer he took to decide.

After Jared ran from their near-kiss on the beach, something he refused to think about, he spent the day doing everything in his power to avoid Jensen. As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. Jensen came back to the house after Misha’s abrupt interruption sometime before noon, went straight to his bedroom and hadn’t come out since. Jared thinks he heard Misha knock on the door once or twice but Jensen didn’t respond or his response wasn’t friendly. Either way, Misha left the main house around 2 pm, fuming, leaving Jared completely alone for the first time.

Not even his ever-present grumpy shadow, Chris, was there. Wondering just how alone and free he was, Jared knocked over a few vases, broke a couple of dishes, tossed some pillows from the couch onto the beach. Nothing. No response. He hoped these items were of great sentimental value to Jensen but someone with his kind of money didn’t treasure anything.

As a teenager, when he was feeling down that they’d lost everything and friends in their social circle shunned them, his grandmother used to quote Oscar Wilde. “There are people in the world that know the price of everything and the value of nothing.”

So why did Jared want the bastard’s company now? He’d like to feign boredom or a desire for more opportunities to irritate Jensen but the sad, pathetic truth was - he was lonely.

After trying his grandmother again and getting much the same response, he tried every trick he knew to stay his ill ease. Running on the beach, sit ups, pull ups. He discovered Jensen had an impressive home gym and did some weight lifting. He couldn’t summon the focus to read and most movies reminded him of things he couldn’t have. He even thought about masturbating but was fairly certain he’d end up thinking about Jensen and he’d rather cut his cock off than do that.

So, after a day with nothing but his own miserable company, he’d gone to the kitchen and made enough food to feed him and his roommates. It would be great if he were in the states, comfy in his shitty apartment, and complaining about said roommates. But no, he was on an island surrounded by murderers and sociopaths who couldn’t decide what day would be best to kill him. The only person who didn’t want to kill him wanted to tie him to a bed and fuck him unconscious.

Normally something like this would appeal to him but he wasn’t here on vacation with a boyfriend. He’d been drugged, kidnapped and made to endure… Well, he wasn’t thinking about that either.

Sighing and turning to go, Jared found that, like all things in his life as of late, the choice was made for him.

“Jared,” Jensen asked, worry warring with curiosity. “Is everything ok?”

Jared raised an eyebrow.

Sighing, Jensen corrected, “I mean, are you hurt or did something happen?”

Jared upped his eyebrow and added a head tilt.

Giving up, Jensen asked, “What can I do for you?”

Jared laughed. “There’s not a hole you can dig yourself out of that won’t lead to another one.”

Nodding and running his hands through his short, soft looking hair - Jared was not going to think about that - Jensen stepped out of his bedroom and started heading down the hall. “Why did you come to see me?”

Embarrassed, Jared admitted, “I made too much dinner and I was wondering if you’d care to join me.”

Jensen’s cycling expression of shock and delight would be pretty attractive on anyone but Jensen. Everything about Jensen would be better on someone else. Someone less kidnappy.

“It’s just food, Jensen. I’m not asking you out on a date.”

Nodding, Jensen gestured Jared forward. “Well, let’s go share a meal in a not-date way.”

Jared grumbled underneath his breath. “This is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“What was that,” Jensen asked.

“Nothing. I hope you like pesto pasta with grilled chicken because that’s what you’re getting,” Jared said, heading toward the dining room where he had set up two place settings.

“I love it,” Jensen said too enthusiastically.

“Jensen, it’s just pasta and chicken. Calm yourself.”

Jared’s chastisement had no effect, and Jensen almost knocked over his chair in his eagerness to sit down.

Jared laughed and went to get the food from the kitchen. When he returned, he saw Jensen had gotten up to retrieve a bottle of wine. The wine made him think of the days he spent drugged and bound to the bed, and he set the plates down with more force than he meant to.

Jensen wasn’t completely dense because he looked up and saw Jared glaring at the bottle and set it back down on the bar without uncorking it.

“How about we just have water with dinner,” Jensen suggested, returning to his seat.

Jared nodded, sat down, and began eating without looking up.

After a few uncomfortable minutes, Jensen said, “This is really good. Where did you learn how to cook?”

Jared looked up and glared. “My grandfather.”

Jensen seemed to have difficulty swallowing after that.

“My grandfather was in the Navy during Vietnam. He had a number of odd jobs on board but one of them was a sous chef,” Jared offered, trying to reduce the tension for his own sake. There had been too much of that lately.

Looking up from his plate he’d been too interested in, Jensen said, “I didn’t know that.”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Jared responded. “Why would you? You don’t remember attending the man’s funeral.”

Jensen sighed and put down his fork, appetite lost. He clasped his hands together, setting them on the table and looked Jared in the eye. “I’m sorry, Jared. I wish I’d handle that situation better. I wish I’d done a lot of things differently. I'm not sure what to do with that because regret is something I never feel.”

Jared began to respond but Jensen interrupted.

“Please, just let me say this,” Jensen pleaded.

Rolling his eyes, Jared leaned back in his chair and swept his hands out wide. “The floor is yours, Mr. Ackles. Tell me how hard this has been for you.”

Sighing, Jensen started, “I. I’m not like you. We’re,” Jensen held out his hands as if including everyone on the island, “We’re not like you. You’re good. Amazing. And we… We think about making money. We don’t much care who or what gets broken along the way.”

“Speak for yourself, Jensen. The men on this island are your employees. Misha said you thought of them as ‘useful idiots’. He said...”

Before Jared could continue, Jensen stopped him with a hand held up, his voice suddenly cold. “What did Misha say?”

“No, not now. We’re talking about you. Not your flunkies,” Jared insisted.

Standing and walking around the table to stand next to Jared, Jensen said, “Jared, this is important. I need to know exactly what Misha said to you.”

“No. I’m not doing this. Not tonight,” Jared demanded.

“But…”

Jared held up a hand. “No, Jensen. I’d like one full day without being terrified out of my mind. Hell, one meal. We can talk about your shitty friends tomorrow.” As Jared spoke, his voice rose and his hands began to shake.

Seeing this, Jensen reach out and grabbed Jared’s hands and began to run circles over the top with his thumbs. “Ok, ok. I’m sorry.”

Jared dropped his chin to his chest, took several deep calming breaths.

“I’m sorry, Jared.”

Jared kept his head bent down and in a whisper asked, “Why me?”

“Pardon?”

Pulling his hands out of Jensen's and resting them in his lap, Jared repeated. “Why me? Out of all the people you could have, who’d willingly be here with you. Why did you take me?”

Jensen seemed to crumble inside, his bright green eyes growing soft and pained. “Because you’re beautiful. I saw you at that benefit surrounded by people who looked down on you, people who thought they were better than you, and you were so patient and gracious. I could tell you knew what they were thinking but somehow it didn’t matter. You were kind where they were unkind. Honest where they were only avariciousness and deceit. In a room full of people with enough money to bury themselves, you were the only person there who had value. Values.”

“So you stole me,” Jared whispered again.

“Yes.”

"And you're keeping me."

“Yes.”

Jared took a deep breath, moved his chair back from the table and stood up and moved in front of Jensen. Jensen watched his movements cautiously.

Reaching for the buckle on his belt and undoing it, Jared pushed his pants down just below his ass, grabbed his cock and began stroking while he put a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and shoved him to his knees.

Jensen groaned, eyes darting from Jared’s face to his stroking hand. Jared put one hand behind Jensen’s head, running his fingers through the short strands and pulled him forward. He put his cock to Jensen’s full, soft lips and spread a line of precome over the top and bottom. Then pushing the tip in, Jared asked, “Is this want you want from me? Why I can't go home?”

Jensen didn't respond. He opened up his mouth and took him in, his moan going straight to Jared’s balls. Jensen worked his tongue over the slit, around the head, beneath the length, all the while increasing suction as his mouth began to water.

“Is this how you pictured me? On my knees, your cock buried deep in my throat?”

Jensen hummed and Jared tightened his fingers in Jensen’s hair. Pushing in deeper, moving his hips a little faster. “This is how I pictured it in my version. Except I was much younger. You don’t remember. You think the first time we met was at that fucking...ah…fucking benefit.”

Jensen looked up, his mouth stuffed with cock, eyes aroused and curious.

“But that’s not how it happened. We met before that...ah..yeah, just like that.”

Jensen hummed, urging Jared to continue.

“I was a boy, barely a day over 15, visiting my grandfather at his office. There was a man sitting at the table in the conference room. Fuck, Jensen. Your mouth.” Jared panted. “You. The man was you. You looked up at me and smiled, your perfect teeth and bright green eyes, and I tripped over my feet and fell against my grandfather’s back. That was the first time I ever got hard for a man.”

Increasing his pace, Jared continued, “Even then. Before I knew to hate you. You ruined me.” Then he came down Jensen's throat.

Jensen held him in his mouth for a few moments before Jared pushed Jensen off, tucked himself back into his pants and started to walk away. Jensen looked up at him, confused. “What? I thought.”

Jared turned and said, "You want to fuck me. I want to go home. Neither one of us is going to get what he wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took liberties with the Wilde quote.
> 
> It's actually, "a cynic was 'a man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing".
> 
> Also, the meal I picked was chosen from a list of easy 1st date recipes. :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some comments from the last chapter made me see I didn't make Jared's motivations for what he did with Jensen all that clear. This is Jensen's chapter so I won't be correcting it until the next one.
> 
> Again, thank you all for you comments and support!

Jensen sat in bed that night, one arm propped behind his head, the other hand thumbing over the buttons on a remote. He stared blindly at the muted TV and thought of Jared.

Their encounter at dinner left him feeling unsure of himself; something he was woefully ill-equipped to handle. Every day since his mother left him alone in their shithole apartment, his laser focus had been on acquiring enough money and power so he could get revenge. Feelings never factored into it. 

After bankrupting Liane’s two husbands, Jensen rabidly dogged her steps, eating away at any attempt she made to be happy. Once she discovered he was the architect of her misery, she contacted him hoping to reconcile. Jensen agreed to meet and invited her to dinner at New York's most expensive restaurant, called to tell her he'd be late but order anything she liked, then failed to show. She was left with a $6,000 bill she couldn’t pay. He tipped the house manager an obscene amount of money, including the cost of her dinner, to make the experience as embarrassing as possible. He was told by friends that she was escorted out by police.

It wasn't enough. He had her blacklisted at country clubs, turned away at charity events, humiliated at stores when her credit cards were declined. He had her Maserati repossessed and towed. When she tried to sell her jewelry, he made certain every high end jewelry store in the city lowballed her and she ended up getting a tenth of what they were worth. 

One by one he stripped her of luxury, with one exception.

When he destroyed her second husband’s company he added a stipulation in the settlement papers that she could keep her downtown apartment. But without the means to support herself, she couldn't pay the utility bills. Before she killed herself she'd been living by candlelight, eating prepackaged foods, and going to her neighbors to shower and do laundry. The kind of life she used to have before she abandoned him.

Even then, Jensen felt nothing. He had a funeral home collect her body and buried her in a cheap plot wearing the uniform she wore as a waitress. He was the only one to attend her funeral even though he informed her former spouses of her death. They blamed her for their downfall. Later, Misha suggested they paint the town to celebrate and they spent the night drinking the champagne she loved.

As her only living heir, he had the responsibility of cleaning out her apartment and disposing of her things. As he walked from room to room behind the cleaners, he took in the life she abandoned him for. Clothes. Furniture. Ugly art. A well-stocked kitchen she probably never ventured into until the end. Vases of dead flowers. A few photographs of friends who ostracized her. The common detritus of the rich.

He was standing over the blood stains left from when she shot herself when a member of the staff brought him her jewelry box. He expected it to be empty but he found it contained a cheap silver locket. Inside was a picture of him when he was a baby. He pocketed the locket and told the staff to keep what they wanted, donate what they didn’t, and throw out the rest. 

When he returned home that night he hid the locket in the back of a drawer and cried himself to sleep. That was the last time he let Liane Ackles hurt him. After that, he never spared her a thought.

All his rage, all his scheming, grew out of a moment in time when he’d been powerless to help himself; abandoned by the one person whose responsibility it was to take care of him. He never imagined he’d be the one to make someone feel that way. But when he looked into Jared’s eyes tonight, that’s what he saw. A man without power.

When he was on his knees with Jared in his mouth, he listened to Jared’s story about a childhood crush but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t remember him. He vaguely remembers his Jared's grandfather but he was just one in a long line of people who had money to take. Jared Sr’s funeral was significant in his memory only because his wife had been so kind. He couldn’t fathom why.

Jared was another thing he couldn’t understand. He prided himself on his ability to read people, to quickly assess their needs and desires and exploit them for all they’re worth. But Jared wasn’t that simple, his motivations less clear. Jared was a good person in a bad situation, his actions that evening an attempt to take back what Jensen refused to let go.

Jensen wanted him too much.

A scenario in which he and Jared were more than captor and captive, where they met as equals and cared for one another, was beyond his imagining. Jensen had never been in love. He doesn't know what it is. He had lovers who said they loved them but he was certain they saw him as little more than a ticket to a better life. Once the declaration was made, the relationship was over.

Tonight, Jared had him on his knees, fucked his mouth. Came down his throat. For all the times Jensen had sucked his cock, Jared had never initiated it. The pleasure he got from knowing Jared chose it, him, was so erotic that if Jared hadn't pushed him away, Jensen would have fucked him on the dining room table. Was that love? Shouldn't love sex involve a bed?

After his day recuperating from his trip to New York, Jensen couldn't sleep. He gave up his attempt and got up to get a tumbler of whiskey hoping that might help. He couldn't afford to get his nights and days switched. He found Misha in the kitchen eating a piece of pie at the breakfast bar.

“Can't sleep either,” Misha asked. 

Going to the wet bar and pouring himself two fingers, he responded, “No. I slept too much today. You should have woken me.”

Misha threw his hands up in the air. “Should have… Dammit, Jensen! I knocked on your door three times. You ignored me the first two times and the third you told me to fuck off!”

“Don’t remember that.” Taking a sip and wincing at the burn, Jensen asked, “Why are you up?

Misha eyed Jensen sideways, his look unreadable. “I got a call from my accountant today. She said someone was trying to access my accounts.”

Jensen nodded and hummed.

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you,” Misha coldly asked.

“Not a thing. Do you have something to hide?” Jensen tried to keep his voice casual but thoughts of his conversation with Jared and what Misha might have said still burned in his mind.

“Jensen, what the fuck is going on? Your apartment was broken into, Ross is dead, and now you’re searching through our accounts?”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “Our?”

“Don’t patronize me. I’ve known you too long for this not to have been you. Otherwise you’d express a little concern.” Misha pushed his plate away and headed toward Jensen’s office.

Jensen followed. 

After scrounging around Jensen’s desk, Misha finally found a piece of paper and wrote down a number on it. “Here,” he held out the paper to Jensen. “That’s the number to my accountant. I’ve authorized her to answer any question you have. You. Not Alona. I don’t care about whatever it is you think I’ve done, but I won’t have that woman going through my affairs.”

That surprised Jensen. “Why? I thought you liked Alona?”

“I like her just fine. But I don’t trust her.”

Jensen was speechless. Alona had been working for him since she finished her MBA. She was essentially VP of his company. She was paid as such but he held back on giving her the title to save her from press exposure, something she said numerous times made her uncomfortable.

“Why,” Jensen asked.

“Everyone has secrets, Jen. Everyone.” Pointing a finger at Jensen’s chest, he continued, “You don’t know your staff like I do. Don’t think they’ll react as well as I have to you investigating them.” With that enigmatic statement, Misha retreated to his room.

As Jensen’s full time lawyer, Misha wasn't part of security and he slept in the house. Jensen wasn’t sure what to make of Misha’s warning but he knew he’d be calling his CPA, and someone else to look into Alona. 

Jensen walked passed Jared’s door, thought about waking the kid up. But for what? Round two? Discuss their feelings? Promise to fly him back to the states the first thing in the morning? He’s pretty sure none of that was going to happen and nothing besides sending him home would make Jared happy.

Giving up on wandering his house, Jensen headed to the beach. He stopped short when he saw Jared asleep in a hammock. His huge body dwarfed the sturdy fabric and it hung close to the sand under his weight. He was on his back, one foot dangling off the side, an arm bent and resting beneath his head. His long bangs hung in his handsome face.

Grabbing a light blanket from a chair on the porch and walking slowly toward him so as not to wake him up, Jensen moved to stand over the boy. He was so beautiful. Even in his sleep you could see the faint shadow of his dimples. He placed the blanket loosely over him and gave in to his desire to brush his bangs from his forehead, trace the outline of his face with his fingers. Tempting fate once more, Jensen bent down and kissed him on the forehead. 

“Sleep well, my captive.”

Then he turned to return back to the house and the restless night ahead. He didn’t see Jared’s eyes open, the fingers he touched to the spot where Jensen kissed him, or curl in tighter to the blanket.


	17. Chapter 17

The morning was awkward. Jared woke with another backache from sleeping on the hammock again to a hot cup of coffee in his face and an offer from Jensen to join him for breakfast. With the events of the night before fresh in his mind, the blow job and the weird kiss, Jared declined. He did thank Jensen for the coffee, a gesture that seemed to put a spring in Jensen’s step.

He might have joined him for breakfast if it weren’t for the worry in the pit of his stomach that told him nothing good would come from spending more time in his presence. Jared’s feelings were already confused. Even though they’d been apart for a week, Jared needed to put distance between them.

Additionally, there were things Jared needed to do without the watchful eye of his captors. Chancing his freedoms from the day before would continue, Jared packed a lunch, his laptop and phone, grabbed a blanket, and hiked to a spot on the island with a shady grouping of trees and a view of the ocean.

He knew one of Jensen’s henchman would take his laptop away if they discovered he had unsupervised access to the internet, and he needed privacy. It wouldn’t take them long to find him if they really wanted to, but when Jared asked Jensen for a backpack, he handed one over with a smile.

Jensen also made his lunch. Jared glared before stuffing it in the backpack. “I hope nothing’s in it that will result in my waking up tied to a bed.” Jensen had the decency to blush.

“Completely drug free. It’s even healthy for you,” Jensen beamed, his enthusiasm uninfectious. Jared’s blank expression didn’t seem to bother Jensen, nor did him leaving without an explanation.

It turned out to be a pretty decent sandwich. Jared was on his last bite when he looked up the name Misha Collins. It was just a guess really. Spending as much time as he did running on the beach, Jared heard a number of names tossed out with no associating face: Chad, Chris, Collins, Carlos, Matt, Murray, Alona, Kane, Sanchez, Gray, Pigeon, Henry, The Employer, The Chemist. He knew there were roughly half a dozen people on the island and Jared heard over a dozen names. Some must be nicknames but it was a safe bet that at least a few were first and last names.

He tried dozens of combinations. Matt Gray. Matt Kane. Chris Collins. Chris Gray. Carlos Kane. A search for Carlos Sanchez yielded over 75 million results. He figured he’d be better off sticking with the more obscure combinations, not that Chad, Chris and Matt were all that unique. 

Christopher Kane was the easiest to find because he was listed as an employee of a private military company called Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Kane had his own page on their website with a list of his credentials and accomplishments. He was an Army Ranger who served two tours in Afghanistan. He retired from the military after his convoy hit an IUD and he suffered what was thought to be a career ending leg injury. Given that Chris was able to follow behind Jared during his long, brisk jogs, Chris seemed to have made a full recovery. Jared imagined he might be the type of guy that would hold a grudge over a broken nose.

Stumbling upon Misha Collins’ website was just dumb luck. Misha was a senior partner at the law firm, Collins, Tran, Morgan & Associates. He was a graduate of Cornell Law School and finished his bar exam in six weeks. Jared would have been impressed if he didn’t hate the bastard. The firm specialized in criminal defense, but Misha’s specialty was corporate law. Jared suspected he was also on permanent retainer for Jensen considering he lived on the island.

He hit paydirt again on Chad when the sun was at its highest. When he put his hand up to shield the screen, he almost spit out his coffee. There was a blurry photograph of a Chad Michael Murray in an old D.C. newspaper taken at the time of his arrest in connection to the assassination of a junior senator. The article said he was found at the scene of the crime holding the murder weapon, yet an another article a month later reported all of the charges had been dismissed. His lawyer, Kevin Tran, of CTM & Associates, asked for an apology from the city for inconveniencing his client and, although it wasn’t explicitly written, he received the equivalent of a _go fuck yourself._

Misha wasn’t kidding. He really was surrounded by murderers and thieves.

All his other guesses didn’t pan out and after freaking out about living on an island with an actual assassin, one who helped him take a shower when he was too drugged to stand, he decided to give up his internet sleuthing. He was about to close his laptop when he remembered another name. Pellegrino.

A general search yielded nothing interesting but when he put the name Pellegrino into the criminal database, he came up with the name Mark Pellegrino. Pellegrino did three years in Sing Sing for attempted murder. There were a few news articles that said Pellegrino was also a suspect in several murders connected to the mob. 

A search of Pellegrino and Ackles came up with a shipping company that was involved in a human trafficking scandal. _Slavery._ Jared felt sick.

A lawyer. A mercenary. A contract killer. Possibly a mobster. Jared was well and truly fucked. As much as it pained him, he needed Jensen on his side. Maybe to save both their lives.

Packing his computer away, Jared took out his phone and called his grandmother again.

“Hello?”

Crossing his fingers that this would be one of her good days, he said, “Hello, grandma. It’s me. Jared.”

“Jared! It’s so good to hear from you. I’m glad you called. Mrs. Johnson said I had a spell again and that I refused to take your calls. I’m so sorry.”

Jared’s eyes filled with tears and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It’s ok, grandma. You know that doesn’t matter to me. I’m just happy to hear your voice.” His words were choked and he absently wiped at the tears running down his face.

Hearing the tears in his voice, his grandma took a deep breath, began to speak, stopped and started again. “I know this is difficult for you. After your grandpa died and I started to get sick, you had to take on the burden of caring for me. A young man like you shouldn’t have to worry about such things. I’m sorry the spells are getting worse.”

“Don’t ever think that. You will never be a burden to me. It’s a privilege to care for you. You took care of me my whole life.” Jared struggled to continue. “I just wish I could do more after what Jensen Ackles did to grandpa’s company...”

Before he finished his sentence his grandma scoffed. “It wasn’t Mr. Ackles fault we lost the company. You’ve always blamed him and because you were so young, I never told you the truth.”

His heart rate picking up, Jared asked, “What truth?”

She hesitated again. “Your grandpa never wanted that company. He wasn’t built to sit in a airless office all day. He hated the grind. Hated how money made people hard and mean.”

Jared argued, “But he tried so hard to save it. It’s why he let that asshole take over and sell it.”

"Language," she admonished.

Jared sheepishly apologized.

"I know that's what we told you but that wasn’t how it was. The company was unsalvageable by the time your grandpa sought out Mr. Ackles’ help. He’d leveraged everything to save it, including our house, but he didn’t have the stamina and ruthlessness necessary to put up a fight in today’s world. He inherited a company that was failing because it failed to keep up with the times and…” 

Interrupting again, Jared said angrily, “Ackles is the reason grandpa killed himself.”

“No, sweetheart. He wasn’t.” She took a deep breath and admitted, “Your grandpa had end stage prostate cancer. He knew we’d lose the little we had left fighting an unwinnable battle. In his note, he said he did it so I’d be able to keep the home we raised our sons in. You and your father.” Her voice was soft and full of compassion. Jared’s world tipped over.

“But the house. You said grandpa leveraged everything. How did you keep the house?”

“Mr. Ackles. In his contract with your grandpa, Mr. Ackles made sure we would get to keep the house and enough money to retire. If it weren’t for Mr. Ackles, you and I would have been on the street.”

Jared was stunned. Absolutely speechless. Whispering, “I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.”

“Your grandpa was embarrassed. He’d lost everything. Your trust fund. Money for your college. The company that had been in his family for generations. He thought if he let you hate Mr.Ackles, you wouldn’t hate him.”

Everything Jared knew about the death of his grandfather was wrong. Everything he believed about Jensen was wrong.

Softly, he said, “I could never hate him. He was my father.”

“I know, baby. I know. And he loved you. He was so proud of you.” Jared could hear the tears in her voice. “I know this hurts you. I never planned on telling you but after your girlfriend told me about your run-in with Mr. Ackles at some benefit, I thought you should know. Mr. Ackles saved us. Not the company. Us."

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispered.

“Don’t feel bad. Your grandpa tried his best. Your father, James, was a brilliant businessman. He was all set to take over the company before his death. I know you lost so much when your parents died. You deserve to inherit the house that has been in the family for so long.”

“Thank you.” Jared said sincerely. “Grandma,” Jared asked.

“Yes?”

“What did grandpa want to do instead of running the business?”

“He wanted to be a painter.”

Jared laughed and tried to picture his always sharp dressed grandfather wearing a painter’s smock. He could see it. Then, finally hearing what else she said, he asked, “What girlfriend? When did you speak with her and what did she say?”

“I didn’t get her name. She called a few days ago. Said she was your girlfriend and that she was looking for you. I told her I’d spoken with you on my birthday and you were doing just fine.”

Panicked that Jessica might be looking for him and that she’d upset his grandma, Jared instructed, “I’m going to give you my number. If she ever calls again, if anyone calls looking for me, call me right away.”

Confused she responded, “Ok. Is something going on? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he reassured. “Everything’s fine. I think that was my ex girlfriend. Jessica. You remember her. We broke up and she’s been harassing me and my friends. Please, just call me. And don’t give my number to anyone.”

“Jessica,” she sneered. “That awful girl? Horrid manners. I never liked her. I’m glad you came to your senses.”

Laughing, he replied, “Me too, grandma.”

“Honey, I hate to cut this call short but I promised a friend I’d meet them for a late lunch.”

“Ok. Thank you. For telling me about grandpa. I really wish he could have been a painter.” Jared wiped the drying tears from his eyes and took a sip of water for his parched mouth.

“Me too. I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jared waited until he heard the click, then stuffed the phone in his backpack, and tossed his sandy blanket over his shoulder.

He needed to see Jensen.


	18. Chapter 18

Jensen had a headache and it was getting worse.

Trying to keep his voice calm, Jensen spoke slowly into the phone, “Yes, I understand these are his private accounts. Mr. Collins informed me that he gave you written permission for me to access this information.”

Scoffing, Sarah Miller, Misha’s personal financial manager and accountant replied, “Permission which I vociferously advised him against. You have no business nosing around his finances. Just because you’ve bullied him into giving you access doesn’t mean I have to go along with it.”

“I’m afraid that’s exactly what it means, Ms. Miller. You are paid to advise Mr. Collins on financial matters and keep track of his accounts. You’re not his babysitter and have no power here whatsoever. You will answer my questions. Am I understood?” Jensen’s voice was cold and the silence that followed indicated she was thinking of a way to get out of answering. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, then opened his desk drawer and searched for some aspirin.

Resigned, Sarah hissed, “Don’t be an asshole, Jensen. You may get away with pushing Misha around but that doesn’t extend to me. You have questions, fine. Ask them. Stop pretending like you’re doing him a favor by forcing this.”

“Always so pleasant, Sarah,” Jensen murmured.

“Cut the shit. What do you want to know,” she snapped.

“Has Misha asked you to launder any money recently?” Jensen had no intention of pulling his punches.

He heard her gasp, then she shouted, “What? Are you out of your fucking mind, Jensen? You’ve known Misha for how long? Over 15 years? You have the audacity to question his loyalty, and to me of all people?”

“Just because you’ve fucked in the past doesn’t make you his wife. And just because he and I have known each other a long time doesn’t make him immune to being motivated by large sums of money. Tell me where his money is coming from and where you’re putting it,” he ordered. He tossed a couple of aspirin into his mouth and washed them down with cold coffee, wincing at the bitter taste.

Sarah was silent for a long time and Jensen thought she was going to refuse to answer.

Hissing, she lectured, “Listen to me, you heartless dick. Misha loves you. I have no idea why but he does. If he knew this was the reason you wanted a peek into his finances, it would crush him.”

Jensen was unmoved. “Stop with theatrics and answer my question,” Jensen ordered.

She responded in sharp, clipped words. “He gets paid by you through his firm. As you are his only client, you are the sole source of his work related income. He has stock in several major companies and income from property he leases. Profits from his properties are placed into a separate account and managed by a real estate firm for future investment purposes. His earnings are split into several brokerage accounts, and they are all filled with hard-earned traceable money.” He was going to ask where these accounts were located but she beat him to it. “Most of them are located in US banks. I am authorized to give you access to them.” She didn’t sound pleased.

“And his offshore accounts? The tax shelters I’m sure you set up?” This was the real question he needed answered.

Jensen sensed her hesitation and sat up in his chair.

“I don’t manage those,” she admitted. “But I know Misha. You know Misha. Whatever you think he’s doing, whatever you think he’s done, I know he hasn’t. Misha is a good man. You have to trust him,” she implored.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Miller.” Jensen hung up the phone, cutting her off, and dropped his head to his desk. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead and he tried to will away the sickening sensation overtaking him. Could Misha be the one Alois warned him about? He stayed like that waiting for the aspirin to kick in, going over everything he’d learned, and was pulled out of his haze by a light knock and the opening of his door.

“You don’t look so good, boss,” Chris chimed, dropping himself in one of the swivel chairs facing Jensen’s desk.

“By all means, make yourself at home, Kane,” Jensen deadpanned. Rubbing his head again, he picked up his coffee cup, remembered it was cold and set it back down. He wanted another one but didn’t want to make a trip to the kitchen. There were times he missed having domestic staff on the island.

“I intend to,” Chris replied, his face awash in humor as he kicked his sandaled feet up on Jensen’s desk.

Jensen eyed Chris’ feet, clearly annoyed. “What you want?” He wasn’t in the mood for this.

Chris put his feet down but leaned over the desk, an elbow propping him up as he picked up one of Jensen’s pens and began to spin it around. “Oh, not much. I was just out taking a stroll on the beach, just me, my thoughts and an AK47, when I stumbled upon your boyfriend gabbing on his phone.”

Suddenly alert, Jensen asked, “What did you do?”

Dropping the pen and holding up his hands, Chris smiled, “Hey now, slow down. Your boy is fine. You might not be, given what I overheard.”

Jensen glared but his heart rate accelerated. He took a big risk in giving Jared the phone. Had he been wrong?

“He doesn’t like you very much,” Chris smiled.

Tired of playing games, Jensen asked, “Spit it out Chris, what did he say?”

“Basically that you’re a no good dirty dog and he wishes he never met you.” Chris’ tone was playful but cold.

“Shit,” Jensen said, slumping in his chair, dropping his head back on the headrest and staring at the ceiling. “What else did he say?”

“I didn’t stay to listen. Just the stuff about you being responsible for his granddaddy’s suicide.” Chris whistled. “That’s a tough mountain to climb if you plan on getting that boy to your bed willingly.”

Not looking up, Jensen pointed to the door, “Get out.”

“Wait,” Chris protested. “You haven’t heard the reason why I came.”

Jensen dropped his head and looked Chris in the eye. “I have a headache and I’m tired of these games. What do you want, Chris?”

“I was looking into the break-in like you asked and discovered some things.”

Jensen nodded, his patience thin.

“Your housekeeper did a pretty an excellent job of cleaning up the mess, even going so far as to wipe the place down. I had a guy go in and dust for prints.”

“And,” Jensen nodded for him to continue.

“The place was forensically clean. My guy didn’t even find your prints.” Chris gave Jensen a knowing look and Jensen came to a sickening realization.

“She let them in.” 

Chris nodded, “It seems so, or they came back to wipe the place down. Either way, she removed every trace of physical evidence.”

“But why? She has full access to my house. If she wanted to steal something, she could have taken it at any time.”

Having come to the same conclusion, Chris continued his explanation. “Maybe she wanted it look like you had a reason for revenge. I had one of my accounting guys check her bank records.”

Jensen sighed, “Let me guess. A large payment from a random shell company?”

He shook his head. “Nope, every penny came from honest labor. But,” Chris emphasized with his hands, fingers laced together and pointers nodding in Jensen’s direction, “her two sons suddenly received mystery grants and now have all expense paid trips through higher education.”

“She sold me out so she could put her kids through college,” Jensen realized. He felt sick. Nothing in his world was as it seemed. As it was supposed to be.

Chris nodded again. “I spoke to the doorman and he remembers letting her in, her saying you needed the place ready for your return, and the men with her were there to assist. They were also dressed as domestic help.”

“Did he give a physical description of them?”

“Yes and no. Two men between 5’8” and 6', both caucasians with typical black hat markers.” Chris laughed when Jensen raised an eyebrow in question. “One had an ugly goatee and the other had a scar over his eye.”

Jensen huffed a laugh. He stood up just to get his legs moving. To feel like he was doing something. When that didn’t help, he stopped pacing, leaned against a table and folded his arms over his chest.

“I don’t get it,” he said. “All that for some pictures I had taken of Jared? Why take them when the only person who knew they were for me was murdered?”

Chris looked thoughtful, then let out a deep breath before he spoke. “It would be useful information if someone wanted to expose you for Jared’s abduction. Your apartment gets broken into, evidence goes missing, you get worried someone will find out you have him. Dropping a stack of photographs into the lap of local PD would also go a long way in implicating you for Ross’ murder. Cops would reason you eliminated Ross because he was blackmailing you.”

Stunned, Jensen didn’t respond. He tried to come up with something to refute Chris’ discoveries and explanations.

“You pissed off the wrong mobster, Jensen,” Chris said, all traces of humor in his voice gone.

Confused, Jensen replied, “Mobster? I don’t know anyone in the mob.”

Chris’s face went from concerned to incredulous. “How can you feign ignorance after all the background checks you ran on Pellegrino? They must have found out about his mob connections. All it took for me to find it was a quick search on the internet.”

Before Jensen had a chance to deny it, Jared came bursting through the door. He looked like fire ready to consume a forest.

“Jared,” Jensen breathed.

Jared ignored him, ignored Chris’ terse greeting.

He grabbed Jensen's shirt and pulled him forward, their bodies suddenly flush. Jensen held out a hand to stay Chris' automatic reaction to step in if someone was going to hurt him.

Jared looked into Jensen’s eyes, his expression unreadable, and lowered his head to brush a kiss across Jensen’s lips. Too stunned to respond, he let Jared do what he wanted. At first the kiss was dry, a meeting of skin, soft on soft. Then he was licking against the seam, licking into Jensen’s mouth. Jensen moaned but kept his hands to his side, not wanting to break the spell.

As Jared deepened the kiss, he let go of Jensen’s shirt and put his hands on the back of Jensen’s head, carding fingers through his hair. He turned Jensen’s head a little, angled his own so he could taste him. His tongue explored, softly demanding Jensen’s response. Jensen risked putting his arms around Jared's waist, closing the small distance between their bodies and rubbed his hard cock against Jared’s. Jared responded by moving a leg between Jensen’s, slightly nudging Jensen’s balls while his hips canted forward and pressed his own hard cock into the grind.

Jared tasted like coffee and smelled like the sunshine and the sea. It made Jensen dizzy, both from lack of oxygen and the kiss. His entire body lost in sensation. He thought, _No wonder I’ve never liked kissing. No one has ever kissed me right._ Jared’s kiss was perfect and when he pulled away, Jensen chased his lips.

Still holding his head, Jared rested his forehead on Jensen's. They were so close together, Jensen could feel Jared’s racing heart, the way his chest lifted and fell as he tried to catch his breath.

“That,” Jared breathed out, “was for saving my grandmother’s house.”

Then he pushed Jensen away, his demeanor changing in an instant. He lifted his hand and slapped Jensen across the face. It’s open-palmed force snapping Jensen’s head to the side.

“And that,” Jared exclaimed, “was for abducting me and keeping me from her.”

Jared turned and walked out without acknowledging a smirking Chris.

Before Jensen could tell him to shut up, Chris mused, “Your boy toy seems to be giving you mixed signals.”


	19. Chapter 19

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid_

Jared ran from Jensen’s office to the beach and the silent mantra played on shameful repeat in his mind. He was near the water’s edge when he stopped, bending down and placing his hands on his knees, struggling to catch his breath. His rabbiting heart had nothing to do with his brief jog. The foamy waves wrapped around his ankles and he dug his toes in the sand.

Why had he kissed Jensen? Why did it have to be so perfect? He could still taste Jensen on his tongue, feel Jensen's heat against his body. Jared’s boxers were wet with precum, and he adjusted his hard and aching cock in his shorts for some relief. He had to force himself to remain on the beach and not return to Jensen and his perfect bee-stung lips.

Sitting down in the sand, he let the slow rolling waves wash over his legs, breathed in the calming scent of the ocean, and soaked up the warmth of the sun on his skin. The churning sea felt peaceful compared to the turmoil inside.

He’d gone there to ask him about his grandmother’s house. It didn’t seem possible that Jensen, heartless pirate, would do something so altruistic. He was just down the hall from Jensen’s office when he heard him talking to Chris. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. This one time his issues were more pressing than island intrigue.

Or so he thought. He was not far behind Chris when he entered the house and he watched as Chris knocked and entered without waiting for an invitation. He planned on storming in, Jensen minion be damned, but then he heard his name. Chris overheard his call with his grandmother and reported back to Jensen. Jensen asked what he said and Chris’ response left Jared feeling hollow for reasons he couldn’t name.

He heard everything. More than he wanted to. Jensen had him followed, had some stranger spy on his life. It made him feel exposed. It made him angry.

And then they spoke about Jensen’s apartment and unfaithful staff. Jensen already had enough of those. It was a relief to hear Jensen wasn’t involved with the mafia. It was disturbing to know Jensen was being fed the wrong information by his own people.

Jensen was in trouble, and quickly, his trouble was becoming Jared’s.

After the confusing kiss, he needed to be away from all of them.

Jared didn’t hear Jensen approach and was startled when he said, “Mind if I sit down?”

Jared grunted but didn’t look up.

Jensen stretched his legs out, letting the water soak his linen pants, and Jared had the crazy thought that only rich people would so brazenly destroy nice clothing.

They sat in silence, neither of them eager to fill the void. It went on for so long that Jared jumped a little when Jensen finally spoke.

“I’ve made a terrible mistake in bringing you here.” His voice was somber and more serious than Jared expected.

“Gee, ya think,” Jared snarked. He knew it was the expected response but it felt flat even to his own ears.

“It’s more than that. More than the horrible things I’ve done to you.” Jensen paused and put his hands in the water, the foam coated his freckled tanned skin like a frothy latte.

It seemed Jensen needed to say these things, and maybe Jared needed to hear them.

Sighing, he continued. “I’m not a good man. I’m not a kind man. I have my reasons for being this way but they aren’t excuses. Better men than me have suffered and never turned to taking someone that was not theirs.”

“You mean what happened with your mother,” Jared asked and immediately regretted it.

“Who told you?” His voice was ice water and Jared swallowed quickly to moisten his suddenly dry mouth. 

“Misha,” he admitted.

“That sonofabitch. I’ll fucking kill him.” Jensen went to rise but Jared caught his hand.

“No. You want to talk to me, talk. You want to go yell at Misha, go yell at Misha. It’s either or. Make your choice.” Jared tugged his hand.

“You're right. I’m sorry” Jensen dropped gracelessly to the ground. “You don’t need or deserve my anger. Whatever reason Misha had for telling you, it’s not your fault.”

Nodding, Jared motioned for Jensen to continue. 

“Misha is right. My mother… Liane. Liane made a mistake when she was little more than a child. A mistake that promised her a life of poverty and pain. But someone gave her an out. All she had to do was erase her mistake.”

“You,” Jared whispered.

“Yes.” Jensen turned and saw Jared’s expression. His face soured. “Don’t pity me. I don’t want or need your pity.”

Irritated, Jared responded, “It’s not pity. It’s sympathy. I’m sorry for you but I don’t feel sorry for you. You’ve built a life for yourself. A successful life. You didn't let what she did to you ruin you.”

Jensen snorted. “I’m so so full of virtue that I abducted and raped a man.”

There was nothing Jared could say to that, and he had no desire to pretend that wasn’t exactly what happened.

Jensen dropped his head to his chest, his next words forced out. “I can’t undo what I’ve done to you.”

Jared asked, “Would you if you could?”

“In a New York minute.”

Jared nodded and felt his stomach drop, the sensation of standing still when the ground beneath you sinks. He waited for Jensen to continue. He knew Jensen sought him out for more than an apology.

“I should never have brought you here. I was arrogant and vain. I thought…” He stopped, ran his salty damp hands through his short spiky hair.

“You thought what, Jensen,” Jared asked softly.

Shaking his head, Jensen responded. “It doesn’t matter now. You’re in danger here. We’re both in danger and I don’t know what to do.”

“Is it Pellegrino? The mobster?”

Jensen’s shock at hearing Jared say the name would have been comical under any other circumstance.

“You asked about him before. Where did you hear that name?”

“Your people aren’t that discreet. Or they believe I’m not getting off the island alive.”

“Shit. It’s so much worse than I thought. If I’d been paying attention. If I hadn’t been so caught up in you…” Jensen’s voice trailed off but after a beat of silence he continued. “I would take you home this minute if I thought you’d be safe.”

Shocked, Jared asked, “Why don’t you? If you said you’d take it back, why won’t you give me my freedom?"

“The people I’ve upset. That man, Pellegrino. If he is part of the mob, I believe he’s trying to expose me for your abduction and frame me for your murder.”

Jared choked out, “Why? I’m nobody. Why kill me when it’s you he’s after?”

“It’s a smart move. The best way to take me down is to take advantage of this.” Jensen motioned between them. “I abducted you. The man I had follow you was murdered. His research into your life, stolen from my apartment during a break-in I didn’t report. When your friends and family can’t get a hold of you, they’ll go to the police.”

Returning to the topic of his possible murder, Jared asked, “But why me? Everyone on the island knows. Why not kill them?”

Jensen huffed a bitter laugh and looked around to see if anyone was in earshot. “If some of my people are with Pellegrino, whatever they saw here won’t matter. The mafia can be very persuasive.”

Jared began to feel dizzy. He put his head down and tried to take deep calming breaths. “Why not take me home. Show everyone I’m alive?”

“I’ve thought of that too. But once you go to the police and tell them what I’ve done, they’ll have you killed to make it look like I was trying to silence you.” Jared noticed Jensen refused to look at him.

“That’s very convenient for you, isn’t it. The only way you’ll take me back is if I don’t go to the police.”

“Honestly, I think they’d kill you just because they know how I feel about you.”

Jared had nothing to say to that. He turned his face to the ocean and wished he were on a boat sailing far away from his growing terror. He whispered, “What are we going to do?”

Jensen turned his head up to the sky, leaned back and braced his body with his arms. “You’re not going to like it.”

“I won’t like dying. Spit it out, Jensen.” Jared began to get cold and pulled his body out of the water.

“You’re going to have to stay close to me. As close as possible. Right now I don’t know who I can trust and if I try to take you and run, it might trigger whatever they have planned for us. I need time to think. I need time to plan.”

“What do you mean by ‘close’?” Jared felt his hackles rise.

“You’ll need to stay with me. Sleep in my room.”

Jared scoffed but Jensen ignored him. “There’s a couch. I’ll sleep on it. But you can’t keep sleeping outside. You’re too exposed and it would be too easy to fake an accident.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Jared whispered.

“Can’t sleep in my room? I promise you, Jared. Nothing will happen. I will never touch you again without your consent.”

Taking a deep breath, Jared confessed, “Being inside makes me nervous. I panic. I can’t breathe.”

Confused, Jensen asked, “You’re claustrophobic?”

“No. Not until…” Jared didn’t need to fill in the blanks.

But Jensen did it for him. “Until I locked you in a room for weeks. Fuck.” He sat up and dropped his head down, spoke to the sand. “I’m so fucking sorry, Jared. I’m so sorry.”

Jared didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to comfort Jensen. Jensen deserved the pain.

“I don’t know how to keep the panic at bay, and I’m sorry for asking you to do this…”

Jared interrupted, “You’re not really asking me. Are you?”

“I can’t keep you safe if you’re out in the open like that. And I can’t join you on the beach because both of us would be at risk.”

“What about the men that are still loyal to you? Misha said they’d gladly give their life for you.”

Jensen eyed Jared from the side, his expression annoyed, “Some time soon you’re going to have to tell me everything Misha said to you.”

Jared raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were done forcing me?”

Sighing, Jensen continued. “What Misha said is true but I can’t know for certain which ones work for me and which ones work for Pellegrino.”

If it weren’t for the sand all over his hands, Jared would rub his eyes. He was suddenly bone-weary tired.

“Ok. I’ll stay with you. But I won’t sleep with you.”

Jensen nodded. “There’s one other thing I’m going to need you to do.”

“What else? I’m not sure how much more I can take of this.”

“I’m going to have to teach you how to fire a gun.”

Jared hated guns. When his grandfather tried to take him hunting, Jared refused. It was one of the few fights they ever had. That was then. Now, Jared’s life was on the line. Jensen’s life was on the line. He would do whatever necessary to keep them both alive.

“Ok,” he agreed.

“Good.” Jensen stood, tried to dust the sand off his pants. “When this is over, when I return you home to your grandmother and friends, I will do everything in my power to make it up to you. Even if that means going to prison.”

Since the first time he woke drugged and bound to the bed, Jared felt a sense of hope building in his chest. Jensen was going to set him free. Now the only thing he needed to decide was if he wanted him to.


	20. Chapter 20

Jared was driving Jensen insane. For the last two hours, Jared had held Jensen’s hand, brushed sand off his cheek and joked with his men about what great head Jensen gave. He even “recommended” it. Chris couldn’t stop laughing, Chad choked on air, and Misha looked at them like he’d solved a puzzle. It was almost enough for Jensen to call off the farse.

When Jensen led Jared to his bedroom the night before, Jared’s pale pallor made him think he wouldn’t get him past the threshold. But Jared seemed to steel himself and straighten his shoulders like he was heading into battle. It made Jensen feel a thousand times worse for asking.

Once they’d settled on sleeping arrangements - Jared would take the bed, Jensen would sleep on the sofa - Jared asked Jensen to sit down. Seeming to take a deep breath for courage, Jared spoke.

“Your men will know something is up if I start sleeping with you but nothing else about our interaction changes,” he said, expression grim.

“That’s true,” Jensen replied cautiously.

“It means you and I are going to have to pretend to get along. Pretend that we’re together.” Jared grimaced as he said the word and Jensen wished he would have kicked him in the balls instead.

“What do you mean by ‘together’,” Jensen asked.

“Fucking, Jensen. I mean fucking. They need to think I’m staying with you because I lost my damn mind and started fucking you,” Jared hissed, not wanting to raise his voice and risk the possibility that the men in the house would overhear.

Stunned, Jensen began, “I… I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Jared raised his eyebrows, his anger mixing with shock. “You can kidnap me, drug me and force me to endure weeks of you sucking my cock but you can’t pretend to like me?”

“That’s not what I meant, Jared,” Jensen hastened to explain. “I meant, I can’t pretend to like you. I do like you. I just don’t know if I can force you to pretend to like me. It’s all too much. I see now how fucked up I’ve been.”

Scornfully, Jared replied, “How could you not know abducting a person is wrong?”

“There’s no possible explanation I could give you that would make sense to either of us,” Jensen confessed.

Rolling his eyes, Jared continued, “I get it. You’re a bad bad really stupid man. Can we focus on getting us off this island alive?”

Jensen nodded and let Jared say what he needed to.

Running his hands through his long hair, Jared sighed. “I’m not saying it’s going to be easy. Pretending to like you isn’t high on my list of fun things to do.”

Jensen winced but Jared didn’t seem to notice.

“It’s a necessary evil. If we’re going to figure out who’s with you and who’s against you, we need to make them think you’re still 100% focused on me. Otherwise, teaching me how to shoot a gun is going to freak them the fuck out.”

Jared was right and Jensen was embarrassed he hadn’t thought of it. He only wanted to make Jared capable of protecting himself. He never considered that doing so would put him in more danger.

“You’re right. I’m an idiot.”

“You’ll get no arguments from me.” Huffing out a breath, Jared got up and went to the dresser. Jensen had Matt transfer the clothes he bought Jared in the bedroom before he broached the subject of him staying with him. It was a gamble but it had to be done.

Jared pulled out a pair of sleep pants and went into the bathroom to change, leaving Jensen alone with his thoughts and the long night ahead of them.

And that is how they ended up here, playing football on the beach, Jared occasionally rushing him and tackling him to the ground. Jared would pin him down, stare into his eyes, and bend to give him a sweet kiss on the mouth. Each time it happened was more stunning than the last. Jensen allowed him complete control over when it happened but took advantage of it when it wasn’t obvious, putting his arms around Jared and pulling him close to deepen the kiss. Jared would moan and open his mouth to Jensen’s exploration.

It was driving Jensen absolutely fucking insane. He’d been aroused since Jared’s first foray into phony affection, and since he didn’t seem to be planning on ending it anytime soon, Jensen accepted he would spend however long it took for them to figure out who the traitor was painfully hard.

It was when they all met up for dinner that night - Misha, Jared, Chad and Chris - that Jensen got a sense of how truly fucked he was.

Jared was in the kitchen helping Misha prepare dinner and Jensen was in the dining room opening a bottle of wine. He could tell Misha was trying to be discreet and keep his voice down but Jensen heard him nonetheless.

“I see you took my advice,” Misha said.

Jared paused, seemed to weigh his words. “It makes sense. Playing on Jensen’s feelings for me seems like the easiest way to go home. After he thinks I’m sufficiently smitten, I’ll ask him to take me back to the states so I can continue my schooling.”

“That’s smart,” Misha replied. “But don’t be too obvious. Jensen’s not a fool. He’s had enough people in his life pretend to like him. If you lay it on too thick, he’ll know something's up.”

Jared didn’t respond, which led Jensen to conclude he just nodded his head.

It felt like he’d been punched in the gut. Is that what Misha told him? To pretend to care for him? Why? What was Misha’s reasoning for wanting to get Jared out of the way so badly?

Later that night, when they were getting ready for bed, Jensen asked Jared about it. “I heard what Misha said to you. About pretending to care for me so I’d take you home.”

Jared nodded but didn’t seem upset that Jensen had overheard.

“Why didn’t you,” he asked.

Jared turned to him, the look in his eyes unreadable, and said, “Because I’m not that cruel.”

“Thank you,” Jensen whispered.

Jared nodded and headed to the bathroom, the words tossed out behind him. “You’re welcome.” Before the door closed, he added, “There’s one other thing Misha said about you keeping me here.”

“What was that,” Jensen asked.

“He said it was going to get you killed.”

All the air felt like it was sucked out of the room. Jensen dropped to the couch, put his face in his hands, and for the first time since he was a child, felt truly and completely alone.


	21. Chapter 21

Jared left the warm shower feeling clean and refreshed, his exhaustion from the previous day temporarily washed from his mind. After drying off, he wrapped the towel around his waist and stood in front of the fogged up mirror to shave. Wiping away a clear spot through the mist, he examined his stubbled face. He looked older than he remembered, his eyes steady and serious. He never spent much time thinking about his appearance but he was certain that his time on the island, his time with Jensen, was changing him.

He never imagined pretending to like Jensen would be so difficult. Because of the worst part about Jensen? He was so damn likable. Underneath his expensive suits and ruthlessness, he seemed vulnerable; so starved for genuine affection that Jared’s simple jokes at his expense had Jensen blushing and ducking his head. He wasn't sure anyone noticed but him. It was hard to reconcile playful, bashful Jensen with everything he knew about the man. 

Jared couldn’t help but take advantage of Jensen’s discomfort. He spent the day actively seeking to make the man squirm. When Jensen seemed to be pulling away, trying to give him space, Jared tucked himself closer, grabbing his hand or knocking their shoulders together. He was so responsive to everything. Simply wiping a bit of sand off his cheek had Jensen staring into Jared’s eyes in dazed confusion. There were times Jared kissed him when he was certain his men weren’t even around.

By the end of the day, he wasn’t sure which of them was more sexually frustrated. Jensen, because he was getting a taste of what he couldn’t have, or Jared because he was tasting something he shouldn’t want.

It was Misha who eventually doused his desire and reminded him of the high stakes of the game they were playing. Jared hadn’t thought about Misha’s advice that he prey on Jensen’s affection the entire day but when put into such stark terms, he wasn’t sure if Misha could see it any other way. Why had he suddenly stopped hating Jensen? He couldn’t come up with a fast enough excuse so he just let Misha assume the worst.

When Jensen asked him about it later, he didn't know how to feel about it. For whatever reason, he couldn’t let Jensen think that going along with Misha’s plan was ever a possibility. He refused to pretend to like Jensen just to get him to let him go. So why was he helping Jensen unmask the traitor?

These thoughts kept him up long past the time he pretended to fall asleep, and when he heard Jensen’s light snoring, he opened his eyes and studied the man. Even asleep, Jensen was handsome, but somehow more so because he didn’t have that pinched expression that went with the kind of life he lived. His features were soft, his long eyelashes almost delicate looking on his tan freckled skin. Jared’s cock hardened as he looked at Jensen’s lips, remembering all the times Jensen had taken him into his mouth.

Jared had stroked himself slowly, his grip firm and strong, his motions tentative in the silent room. He didn’t want Jensen to wake and find Jared fucking his fist while he stared at him. He kept looking at Jensen’s full mouth, imagining his strong wet tongue. He thought about the other things Jensen might do with it, other places it could explore. When his breathing picked up, Jensen shifted in his sleep and the blanket covering his bare chest fell off. Jared remembered earlier in the day when Jensen had flipped him over and pinned his arms above him, their bare chests flush and warm between them. There was no way that either man could hide their arousal. Jared imagined Jensen on top of him, inside of him, and came with a gasp. It was a while after his racing heart slowed that realized what he’d done.

Jared tried to push the memory from his mind and finish his morning ritual. When he left the bathroom, Jensen was just waking up. The blanket he slept with was on the ground and his sleep pants rode low on his hips. He turned, noticed Jared and was just about to speak when they heard a knock on the door.

“Boss, we need to talk,” Chad said before turning the handle on the door. Jensen’s eyes went wide as he looked to the bed. If Chad opened the door now he would see that they hadn’t slept together.

Before he realized what he was doing, Jared dropped his towel and rushed over to the couch. He straddled Jensen’s lap and put his hands on Jensen’s face, pulling him in for an open-mouthed kiss. Jensen was so startled that he immediately wrapped his hands around Jared’s waist, pulling him close. Jared began a slow grind against Jensen just as the door swung open.

“Jensen,” Chad said before looking up. Once he did, he shouted, “Oh fuck,” and covered his eyes. “I did not need to see that.”

Jensen pulled away from the kiss and pulled Jared to his chest. “That’s why you should wait to be invited in after knocking on a door.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that.” Chad continued to back out the door, his hand shielding his eyes. “I’m just going to go. And be. Elsewhere.” 

Jensen laughed but said nothing as the door clicked shut.

It was a few moments before either man spoke.

Jared started, “I just. If he saw you sleeping on the couch.”

Jensen nodded. “Yeah. Good thinking.”

Jared’s breathing was labored as he said, “You should learn to lock a door.”

“I thought it was locked,” Jensen whispered, staring at Jared’s kiss wet lips.

Jared didn’t respond. When Jensen moved his head forward to kiss him again, Jared let him. The kiss was soft and slow, Jensen taking his time to explore Jared’s mouth. Jared’s fingers were still carded though Jensen’s hair and he pulled him closer to get a better taste. It wasn’t until Jensen moaned and gripped Jared tighter that Jared remembered where he was and who he was kissing.

He lept off Jensen’s lap, tripping on the blanket in his haste to get away, and Jensen’s hand shot out to steady him.

Jared pushed his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“Jared,” Jensen began.

“I said I’m fine. Leave it alone, Jensen.”

Jensen dropped his hands into his lap, hiding the obvious tent in his sleep pants, and didn’t say anything else when Jared hastily grabbed clothes from the dresser and retreated back into the bathroom.

Jared heard Jensen get up and begin moving around, getting dressed for the day. He would have felt bad for hogging the bathroom but the house was gigantic and if Jensen needed to piss, he could go somewhere else to do it. Jared needed time to think. He was close to panicking when he heard the door open and Jensen yell out for Chad.

What the fuck was he doing?


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what Jensen is listening to at the beginning of the chapter. It's beautiful and worth a listen. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Erik Satie - Gymnopédie No.1](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-Xm7s9eGxU)

Jensen prefers classic rock. It suits his lifestyle though few who meet him imagine he listens to music.

He grew up on the classics. It was the one comfort he had moving from foster home to shelter, and the few times he ran away and lived on the streets. He had an old compact disc player he found at a yard sale. He stole CDs from libraries and record stores, hoarded them as cherished possessions. He got into more than one fight when older kids tried to take them from him.

Classic rock was comfortable in the way an old sweatshirt might be. It’s worn-out and familiar, the origin of so many grunge derivatives. He used their loud drums, bass guitars and anthem lyrics as a soundtrack to his quest for freedom.

Today, however, as he hid out in his office after meeting with his men, he preferred something harder to listen to, closer to the bone. He needed someone else to feel pain for him, something that wouldn’t make him feel so defeated and alone.

He wasn’t one for concerts and the theatre left him cold. The times he attended were out of obligation or to advance his career. But there were a few classical artists that spoke to him in the way rock music did. For today’s decent, he chose Erik Satie’s Gymnopédies 1-3. The melody always made him think of green forests, lazy fingers skimming the water of a pond. He needed that, needed that freshness. He wanted to feel clean.

After he hurried out of his bedroom like a coward, he sought out Chad who was waiting in the kitchen. He was drinking a beer. Considering it was 9am, whatever he had to tell Jensen wasn’t good.

“What is it,” Jensen asked without greeting.

Leaning against the counter, Chad took a long pull from his beer and said, “The police are sniffing around. Someone in the NYPD got a tip that you hired me to kill Henry Ross.”

“Fuck. How could you possibly kill Henry when you haven’t left the island?” Jensen dropped into a chair and took the cup of coffee Misha offered, barely conscious of the movement. He hadn’t noticed Misha or Chris’ presence.

“Well, I can call the police and tell them I wasn’t available for that particle hit because I was busy aiding and abetting an abduction,” Chad snarked. “Do you think that would help?”

Jensen set the coffee down and rubbed both hands down his face.

Sighing, he said, “Do we know where they got this little tip?”

Chris chimed in. “It’s obvious isn’t? You’ve pissed off Pellegrino one too many times and now he’s working to destroy you when you’re too far away to defend yourself. We need to go home. Fight this. Fight him.”

Jensen was just about to respond when Misha cut in.

“Or, we have a mole.”

The silence that followed was uncomfortable and Chad seemed to have trouble swallowing his beer.

Cautiously, Jensen asked, “How do you figure?”

“Who else knows you hired Henry Ross? Us in this room. Maybe Chris’ staff - Matt and Carlos.” Misha responded.

Chris shook his head.

“I’m pretty sure no one told Gray. Gray does know you have Jared,” Misha finished.

When Chris spoke his voice was so low Jensen had to ask him to repeat himself.

“I said, and Alona,” Chris replied. His voice shifting from soft to stern.

Jensen had actually forgotten about her. Jensen didn’t mention Alois knew about Jared.

Misha continued, “Pellegrino’s not getting his information by having you followed. Unless his assets are preternaturally stealthy, they’re not on the island. We’ve been here for months and Pellegrino is only now acting on this info? It doesn’t track. One of us is giving him information.”

“Misha’s right,” Chad chimed in. “You asked me to look into where Pellegrino was getting his information. Every thread I followed led me back here.”

Jensen didn’t say anything for a long time. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. A denial? An accusation? When no one volunteered themselves or sold out their friend, Jensen stood.

They all spoke at once but Jensen waved them off. “I need to think. You all do whatever it is you do.” Then remembering something, he turned to Misha. “Did your contact say anything about Jared?”

“No.”

Jensen nodded and headed for his office. The sounds of an argument beginning to fill the space behind him.

This is where Jared found him shortly before lunch. He heard the soft knock and knew it wasn’t one of his men.

“Come in, Jared.”

Jared entered the room and closed the door open behind him. He looked around, seeming to study Jensen’s decorating tastes, and settled for sitting in a chair in front of Jensen’s desk. Jensen stayed where he was. He was pretty sure he was about to get punched in the face.

“What can I do for you,” he asked.

Jared dropped his head and studied his fingers. “The music is nice.”

“It is.”

Jared seemed to be having trouble speaking and since what Jensen had to tell him was going to radically change his mood, he let him collect himself.

“I...I wanted...I just thought you should know. About the kiss,” he began.

Jensen couldn’t believe it but he’d actually forgotten about it. A sure sign that he was in deep trouble.

Jared continued, “I was just doing it so Chad wouldn’t think… I don’t want you to get any ideas.” Judging by Jared’s blush, Jensen wasn’t sure which one of them he was referring to.

“I understand,” Jensen assured. “I told you I don’t expect anything from you anymore.”

Jared looked up at Jensen’s face and offered a shy smile. “I was just about to go make lunch. Would you like to join me?”

Jensen sighed. “I would like nothing more but I need to tell you some things and I’m pretty sure you won’t want to be near me once I’m done.”

Jared looked confused but nodded for Jensen to continue.

“Do you remember a man named Henry Ross? The man Jessica left you for?”

Suddenly suspicious, Jared asked, “Yes. How do you know that name?”

Fighting his rising anxiety, “Because I paid him to seduce her.”

Jared’s response was immediate. He jumped to his feet and was about to make his way over to Jensen.

Jensen stayed his movements with a held out hand.

“You can beat me up later, Jared. For now, things with Henry Ross are more complicated than your ex-girlfriend.”

Jared fumed but remained where he was.

“I’ve told you there are forces at work trying to destroy me. People who want nothing more than to see you die and have me take the blame for it.”

Jared glared but nodded for him to continue.

“When my apartment was broken into, the only thing stolen was the information Henry collected on you.”

“And?”

“Shortly after the break-in, while I was still in New York, Henry Ross was murdered. Execution style bullet to the back of his head. I’ve just found out that I’m a suspect in his murder.”

Jared fell back into the chair.

“They’re really going to kill me,” he whispered. “I thought. Maybe you were just playing on my sympathy. Manipulating me. I didn’t…”

“No one is going to kill you, Jared. I promised you that I would keep you safe and I will.” Jensen sighed, dropped his head back on the headrest. He stared at the ceiling fan as he thought of how best to say what he needed to say.

“Keeping you in the dark, keeping you ignorant, will not keep you safe. I realize I’m giving you one more reason to hate me...”

Jared interrupted, “I didn’t need any more reasons, Jensen.”

Jensen dropped his head and looked into Jared’s eyes. “If there was a way to undo it all, everything from the moment I met your grandfather to now, I would. I’d give anything to take back what I’ve done to you.”

Jared remained silent.

Accepting Jared wasn’t go to respond, Jensen switched topics. “I don’t know who told NYPD about my connection to Henry. I’m looking into it. They haven’t added you to the equation so I’m thinking that’s information they’re holding onto for now.”

“Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jensen leaned forward and put his elbows on his desk. His restlessness increasing in pace with his anxiety. “It won’t be long before the police go looking for you and when they don’t find you…”

Jared gasped and leapt up, causing Jensen to lean back. He thought Jared was going to strike him but Jared ran out of the room.

“Jared,” Jensen yelled, his chair and desk slowing his pursuit.

“I have to,” Jared’s voice was rushed, on the edge of panic. “She’s not well. She can’t think. My grandmother said my girlfriend called her.”

“When?”

Jared ignored him and ran to the bedroom. He grabbed for his backpack, riffling through it and pulled out his phone. Jensen made a motion to stop him but Jared held up his hand. “I won't let you hurt her too.”

Jensen nodded and sat on the couch. He watched as Jared frantically typed in numbers and waited for the phone to ring. He shouted into the phone before the person he was calling got a chance to answer.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Jess?”

Jessica. Why was Jared calling Jessica?

Jensen had no choice but to wait. Everything was spiraling further out of his control.

“Stop. Right there. You had no right to call my grandmother.” Jared listened, his anger rising. “Yes, I know about Henry. Jensen told me.”

He heard yelling on the other side of the phone.

“Because I’m with Jensen now. On vacation. With. My. Boyfriend. Where I’ve been for the last two and a half months.”

Jensen’s eyes widened.

“Because I didn’t want you to know where I was going. If I told my grandmother where I really was, you’d find a way to weasel your way here.”

Jensen heard more yelling, maybe some sobbing.

“That’s ridiculous. Jensen’s been with me the entire time. He had to make a quick trip to New York for business, a trip I accompanied him on. He wasn’t out killing Henry Ross because he was too busy fucking me,” he shouted.

Jared waited as Jessica shouted more things at him. Jared rolled his eyes.

“Jensen sure as hell didn’t make you fuck anyone. You did that all on your own. I saw how you threw yourself at Jensen. If it wasn’t Henry, you probably would have fucked him. It’s over. I’m with Jensen now. I’ll be home in time for school to start, so there’s no need for you to worry my grandmother. Contact her again and I’ll file a restraining order.” With that, he hung up the phone, his breathing heavy. Seeming to have lost steam, Jared fell back on the bed.

Jensen sat there, completely stupefied. He didn't know what to say. He settled, “Why?"

Jared didn’t say anything for a long time and Jensen got up to leave.

When Jared finally spoke, his voice was sad. “My grandmother has early onset Alzheimer's. She was diagnosed shortly after my grandfather…”

“After your grandfather committed suicide,” he finished. Jensen felt gut shot.

“Yes. She’s not doing well. Sometimes she remembers me. Sometimes she doesn’t. It’ll kill her if she thinks I’m in danger and she can’t do anything about it.”

Jensen grimaced. “I’m sorry, Jared. For that. For a thousand things but I’m especially sorry for what I did to your grandfather. Your family,” Jensen said uselessly.

Jared hesitated and said, “His suicide wasn’t your fault. He was dying. He didn’t want my grandmother to lose the house.”

Jensen was beginning to feel concussed.

“My grandmother told me you saved us. Made it so we could keep the house.” 

Jensen breathed, “Jared.”

“I hate you for a lot of reasons but not because of my grandfather. Not any more.” Jared ran his hands through his hair, sighed and stood up.

“We can talk about all this later. For now we’re going to go play nice and see who killed Henry and who’s trying to kill us.” Jared held out his hand and Jensen took it, following Jared out toward the kitchen.

He remembered the music he was listening to earlier and the other sensation he always felt when he heard it. Falling. It always made him feel like he was falling. The fact that Jared just gave them a timeline to get him home, forgotten.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't sleep, so I wrote.

Jared and Jensen were currently sitting on the bed, side by side, bouncing up and down. Occasionally one of them would bounce against the headboard and let out a loud moan. It was always followed by stifled giggles. In between their sex act, they’d continue their whispered conversation.

“Why do you want to be a lawyer,” Jensen asked.

Huffing a little and fumbling his rhythm, Jared responded. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

“You.”

Jensen offered a sad smile and Jared continued. “I always thought you were the reason my life sucked. I mean, I wasn’t unhappy but things could have been easier, you know?”

Jensen nodded.

“I still had my grandmother and was able to stay at my private school. Grandma pulled some strings with the board and given how much she and my grandpa donated over the years, they figured the least they could do was let me finish out high school. My life wasn’t horrible after we lost everything. Just harder.”

“That makes sense. I can't imagine how hard that must have been,” Jensen replied.

“Can't you? Misha told me about how you grew up.”

Jensen looked pained and then shrugged.

Wanting to return to their earlier camaraderie, Jared raised an eyebrow and smirked. He let out a loud moan and said, “Oh, fuck, Jensen. Right there.” 

Jensen laughed and banged the headboard more vigorously. “This is turning into quite the competition.”

Jared shrugged. “With Chad and Chris moving into the house, I figure we need to encourage them to stay as far away from us as possible. If having tons of wild fake sex with you does the trick, hop on cowboy.”

Jensen couldn’t stifle his laugh this time and Jared winked.

“So, you were telling me how I’m your life’s inspiration,” Jensen whispered. Then, “Fuck, Jared. So fucking tight.”

Jared blushed and tried to subtly push down his erection. Fake or not, Jensen was hot. He appreciated that Jensen didn’t say anything.

“Anyway, after I finished high school, I applied to as many schools as I could. When I got in to Stanford, I didn’t really have a major in mind but during my sophomore year I read a puff piece about you in a magazine.”

Jensen put his face in his hands. “Oh, god,” he said, this time without the sexual undertone. “I hated doing that interview. Alona made me do it.”

“I can understand why. The author blew so much smoke up your ass, even I was embarrassed for you.”

Jensen groaned. “The interviewer kept flirting with me. I don’t know what he was thinking but he wasn’t going to get it writing that garbage.”

Jared huffed. “Well, I got so pissed off that they were calling you a “humanitarian” I went to my advisor that day and switched from gen to pre law. I plan on going into corporate law.”

“The part about about my charity work is what bothered you? How about calling me ‘New York’s more desirable bachelor’? Do you know how many men and women I had to dodge after that?”

Jared mock patted Jensen’s shoulder. “I’m sure it must have been terrible for you.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “Should we maybe finish up here? I’m pretty sure even on my best day I can’t go non-stop for two hours.”

Jared turned his head curiously. “Pity.”

Jensen smirked and ramped up the volume. “Fuck, Jared. I’m gonna to come.”

Jared got even louder, his words a jumble of fuckyescomeharder. They picked up their bouncing, Jared jumping so high and hard that Jensen fell off the bed.

He shouted, “Fuck that hurt!” Realizing how that must have sounded outside the room, they both burst out laughing. A minute went by and they heard banging on the door.

“Do you two want to tone it down a bit. If Jared is breaking your dick, I'd rather not hear it.” It sounded like Chad but the sound was muffled as Jared laughed into a pillow.

Jensen got to his feet carefully and turned his head from side to side, stretching out his neck. 

“Are you ok,” Jared whispered.

Jensen blushed and ducked his head. “I’m fine. Anyone ever tell you you're a killer in the sack?”

Jared grinned and said, “No one that lived to tell.”

Jensen laughed again and moved back to the couch.

Jared looked around the room, curious about the house and the island. “How does one go about buying an island?”

“I didn't,” Jensen replied. “I won it in a poker game from a Peruvian drug lord.”

Jared gaped and looked around. “This used to belong to a drug dealer?”

“Yep. Why do you think it has a barracks and a firing range? Bullet proof windows? People dislike me but not that much.”

“Is he the one who gave you whatever you used to drug me?”

Jensen nodded. “His chemist did. He…”

Jared’s eyes widened and he held up his hand. “Did you say chemist?”

Jensen frowned, “Yes. Why?”

“Something I overheard while you're were in New York.” 

Jensen paled. “What did you hear?”

“I don't remember exactly. Something about the chemist warning you.”

Jensen swore and grabbed the water bottle from the coffee table. Jared thought he looked like he was going to be sick.

“What else?”

Jared shrugged. “Nothing that really made sense. 'The employer was talking’, something about Pellegrino and... oh,” Jared snapped his fingers. “Alona. You mentioned Alona.”

Jensen furrowed his eyebrows. “I did.”

“They said something like 'Alona got the message’.”

“Fuck. Do you know who said it?”

Jared shook his head. “No, sorry. The drugs were still leaving my system. At first I thought I was hallucinating. Then, after a while, even when I could hear clearly it all sounded like code.”

Jensen nodded his thanks and held the water bottle out to Jared. Jared raised an eyebrow in question.

“I just thought you might be thirsty and want to drink something you know for sure isn't drugged.”

Jared accepted the bottle and took a big gulp. Moaning for hours dried his mouth out, apparently. Wiping his mouth off and returning the bottle, Jared asked, “What did you give me, anyway?”

“Goddess.”

“Huh?”

“The drug. It's street name is Goddess. It's a MDMA derivative. The chemist you mentioned, he designed it.”

“Ecstasy. You gave me ecstasy. Fuck, Jensen.”

Jensen dropped his head. “I know. I'm sorry.”

“Stop fucking apologizing,” Jared shouted, uncaring of who might hear. “I don't need your apologies.”

“Then what,” Jensen asked. “What can I do? I can't change what I've done. No matter how much I want to I can't go back in time.”

Jared tugged at the ends of his hair. It was longer than he normally kept it. Months of growth had it falling just below his shoulders. “I don't know. Just...stop apologizing.”

“Ok.”

Jared dropped down onto the couch next to him. “I know that you're sorry. I get that. But we have larger concerns now than what you did to me.”

Jensen nodded. “Ok. What do you want to do?”

Jared thought about it a moment, then turned to face Jensen. He tucked one leg under the other and brushed his hair behind his ears. He didn't miss Jensen's intense focus on his movements.

“I want you to tell me everything I need to know about firing a gun. Then, I want you to show me how you got a Peruvian drug lord to give you an island after cheating at poker.”

Jensen raised an eyebrow. “How did you know,” he asked.

“You may have a good poker face but you're as open as a book when you're afraid.”

Jared noticed Jensen clench his fists but he didn't respond.

Standing up, Jensen said. “I keep a gun in the safe in my office. I think there's deck of cards in there. If you want to come and grab a post sex snack, I'll go collect them while you distract anyone who comes by.”

Jensen stood to go. Before he got far, Jared grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bathroom. Jensen seemed confused but followed.

Turning the hot water on in the shower, Jared left the curtain open so it quickly steamed up the room. He bent down over the sink and splashed his face, running his wet fingers through his hair. He took some water and poured it on Jensen’s head, running his fingers through and matting down the gelled spikes.

“What are you doing, Jared,” Jensen asked, confused.

“Making it look like we just cleaned up after marathon sex.”

“Ah, good thinking.” 

As they waited for the room to steam up, Jared looked at Jensen's blank expression. Water wasn't going to be enough.

Once again moving without giving himself time to think, Jared grabbed Jensen's shirt and pulled him into a kiss. Unlike their previous kisses, this one was meant to ignite and devour. Jared ran his hands through Jensen's hair, thoroughly messing it up, and moved their bodies closer together. 

He could feel Jensen's hard cock rubbing against his own, and he kept his eyes closed and imagined he could have this. He could want this. Jensen wrapped his arms around Jared's waist and pulled him tight, his hands finding their way up the back of Jared's shirt. Jared let him touch him for as long as he could stand it and then slowly pushed Jensen away. Jensen was reluctant to let go.

“Ok.” Jared let out a shuddered breath. “Let's have a look at you.”

Jensen's eyes were glassy and his pupils were blown. His lips looked swollen and damp. If he didn't know any better, Jared might think this is the first time Jensen had been kissed.

“Better,” Jared said. He turned off the water and grabbed Jensen's hand again, pulling him behind him. 

Before they left the bedroom, Jared said, “You better have ice cream or I'm never having fake sex with you again.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to hold this until I finished the next chapter as they are part of the same day with different POVs but chapter 25 still needs work. It should be out in a day or two.
> 
> Thanks again for reading!

Holding the gun by the grip with the barrel pointing down, Jensen asked Jared, “One more time. What are the most important rules for handling a firearm?” They’d been over this a dozen times. He made Jared dress in slacks and sneakers, forgoing his usual beach attire in spite of the heat. Jared refused to wear a long-sleeved shirt even though Jensen tried to explain about the dangers of spent shell casings. Jensen let it go because Jared’s patience was at its limit.

Jared brushed a long lock of hair out of his eyes and ticked them off. “Always treat the gun as if it’s loaded.”

Jensen nodded encouragingly. “Yes. Good.”

He twirled his finger in the air. “Keep your finger off the trigger and your gun lowered until you’re ready to fire.”

“And,” Jensen prodded.

Jared sighed. The poor kid really hated this. He told Jensen about refusing to go hunting with his grandfather and the fight they had. This was one more thing Jensen was forcing him to do. It hurt Jensen’s heart but he knew it couldn’t be helped. Jared had to have a way to defend himself.

“Pay attention to your target and what’s behind it.”

“And the most important one?”

“Never fire a gun at anything you aren’t prepared to destroy or kill.”

“Perfect,” Jensen beamed and handed the gun over. Jared held it firmly by the grip and looked at it like it might bite.

“Here,” Jensen slid a pair of shooting earmuffs over Jared’s head and adjusted them to fit securely over his ears and the straps of the safety glasses. He brushed a stray hair off Jared’s forehead as he caught Jared’s eyes through the plastic lenses. His steady gaze made Jensen’s breath catch. Jensen stuttered, “You-you won’t have this kind of protection in a gunfight but it’s important to protect your eyes and ears when practicing.”

Jared raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Gunfight? Run into those often on Wall Street? Jen, sweetheart, we’re just messing around. It’s not like you’re sending me off to war.” He kept the gun pointed down and pecked Jensen’s cheek. The pet name made Jensen’s heart clench and he fought back the urge to pull Jared in for a deeper kiss. He only stopped himself when he remembered the name wasn’t meant for him. It was meant for their audience.

Chad and Chris stood just behind them with their arms crossed, listening to Jensen’s directions and offering advice. Misha refused to leave the house when he heard Jensen’s “insane fucking idea” to teach Jared how to shoot. Jensen had to convince him that he wasn’t giving Jared a gun like he did the phone before he calmed down.

Jensen tried to reassure him. “It’s just for fun, Misha. I promise I’m not giving Jared a way to kill us all in our sleep. Unless he has a secret pilot’s license tucked away somewhere, he won’t be getting off this island without us.”

“He could take the boat. I know he’s passed by the dock on his runs,” Misha countered. He pointed in Jared’s direction though Jared wasn’t in the room. “That kid grew up with money. There's no way he was never taught how to handle a boat.”

Though Jensen knew that would be his response, he still didn’t have a good answer for it. Instead, he repeated himself. “Jared isn’t going to kill us. I promise. Things are different between us now. Things are good.” Jensen forced a bright smile and Misha ducked his head. He looked pained.

“Jen,” he said softly, “I know you think Jared’s the one for you and that his current case of Stockholm Syndrome means he loves you back but don’t...” He looked to be choosing his words carefully. “Don’t get so attached to him that you won’t be able to let him go when the time comes.” 

Jensen didn’t have time to respond before Misha shut the bedroom door in his face. It took a while before Misha’s warning stopped ringing in his ears.

Shaking the memory away, Jensen returned his attention to his lesson. “Ok. You hold the gun in your dominant hand and use your non dominant hand to brace it. Like this,” Jensen helped Jared position his hands, the action bringing their bodies close together. Lightly tapping the inside of Jared’s thigh, he continued, “Stand with your legs shoulder width apart and bend slightly at the knees.” Jensen had his hands on Jared’s hips and guided his movements with encouraging suggestions on how to position his arms from Chad. They were close enough that Jensen could smell his aftershave and suntan lotion. Jared smelled amazing. Like sex and summer. “Good. That’s really good, Jay.”

Jared tried to smile but it came out more as a grimace. His eyes kept turning to gauge the reactions of the spectators. He was nervous and Jensen had no way to comfort him. 

Chris noticed and laughed. “Don’t worry yourself, princess. The gun won’t shoot you unless you shoot yourself.” Chad punched him in the arm. “Ow, bitch.”

“Don’t interrupt, asswipe,” Chad retorted. “This is serious stuff.”

Jared took a few deep breaths and Jensen squeezed his shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” Then he scolded Chris. “If you don’t have something constructive to add, shut up.”

Chris smiled and pretended to zip his lips shut. Chad waved Jensen forward. “Go on. We’ll keep quite. I’m very interested in your lesson plan. You are, after all, the weapons expert here.” He winked.

Chad had a point but it still pissed him off. He was irrationally determined not to make a fool out of himself in front of Jared. Jensen asked “Do you want to show him?”

Jared quickly shook his head. “No! You. I want it to be you, Jen.”

“Ok.” Jensen gave him a one armed hug, mindful of the gun. “Just ignore them. Pretend it’s just you and me.”

He knew why Jared wanted nothing to do with them. They talked the night before about Jared's time spent researching names he overheard. It only took Jared a couple of good guesses and the internet to discover the identities and vocations of most of his men. Including his assassin. Jensen was stunned. He's still shocked Chad left a paper trail. He knows how obsessive Chad is about not being photographed. 

After ensuring Jared had a proper grip and was in the right position, Jensen said, “Ok. Align your sights with the target. Go for the chest area. Head shots are only for zombie movies and video games.”

Chris saluted, “True that, brother.”

Jensen went to yell him again but Chris held his hands up. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

Huffing, Jensen continued, “As I was saying. Align your sites and aim for the largest part on the target.” 

Jared nodded and did as he was told. His hands were slightly trembling but he kept a steady grip on the gun.

“Fire when you’re ready, Jay.”

He took a few more calming breaths and fired once, the loud report and recoil shocking him so much he turned toward Jensen before lowering the weapon. Chris and Chad shouted at him to lower the gun.

He lowered it instantly and apologized, “Sorry. That was,” he breathed, his chest slightly heaving. “That was loud.”

Jensen laughed and nodded. “Yeah, imagine how loud it is without these on.” He tapped his own earmuffs. Even Chad and Chris were wearing them. “How did it feel otherwise?”

“Scary. Powerful.” He looked over at Chad and Chris, remembering why he was doing this, and turned to examine the target. His shot hit just outside the line near the left hip. “I’m no Billy the Kid.” 

Jensen tried to encourage him. “It takes practice. Lots of practice. And then you’re only good at shooting while standing still and hitting a non-moving target. There are live action simulators at shooting ranges that let you practice shooting while moving. You use a computerized gun that syncs with a scenario projected on a wall. I suck at it.”

“I do ok,” Chad quipped.

Jared furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the gun in his hand. “Then why practice at all if you never really get any good?”

“I’m not saying you don’t learn from it. It’s just harder to hit a moving target.” Jensen rubbed Jared’s back a little, again taking advantage of his ability to touch him.

Jared leaned into the touch and sighed. “Ok, let me try again.” Jensen stepped back and Jared turned toward the target, positioned himself correctly, and shot off five rounds, all of them landing near the center.

“Not bad,” Chris said as he eyed Chad sideways.

Chad shrugged. “Beginner’s luck. Girls are always better at handling weapons.”

Chris cackled and Jensen hid his smile.

Jared looked like he wanted to say something but seemed to think better of it. Jensen said it for him. “Fuck off, Chad.”

Chad held both hands over his heart. “Aww, Jensen’s defending his true love’s honor.”

Jared shot off four more rounds in response, emptying the clip. He set the gun down and bent to pick up the spent shell casings.

“STOP,” Chad yelled. Jared froze. “Dude, those can be fucking hot. Leave them alone until you’re finished for the day. Kick the ones closest to you to the side so you don’t slip on one and fall while holding the gun.”

Chris held up a hand, “Yeah, I in particular don’t want your first successful headshot to be my pretty face.”

Jared apologized again, a sweet blush tinting his cheeks. Jensen ran his finger over the pink without thinking. “You’re doing fine, Jay. Let me show you how to change a clip.” 

After 30 minutes, Jared reached his limit. He put the gun down and took the earmuffs and eyewear off. “That’s it. I’m done.” He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck. “I need a beer.”

“You’ve earned one,” Jensen replied, leaning over and kissing Jared lightly on the lips. Jared blinked and stepped back, momentarily stunned by Jensen’s action. They both looked over at Chad and Chris who were now eyeing them suspiciously.

Pushing Jensen away to cover his reaction, he said, “You can kiss me after you get me a beer.”

Jensen saw Chad and Chris look at each other, their earlier playfulness replaced by stoney expressions. It didn’t bode well.

Jensen grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together. Jared’s hand was trembling. “Chad, would you mind cleaning this up? I'm going to make Jared dinner. If you play nice, you’re invited.”

“Don’t forget the bubble bath, Jen. You know how girls like bubble baths after a long day at the range.” Chad’s teasing seemed forced.

Jared finally stood up for himself. “Shut the fuck up. I can break your nose as easily as I broke Chris’.”

Chris moved toward him, “You little shit. If it weren’t for Jensen…”

“Enough,” Jensen shouted. “Jared is with me. You will treat him with respect.”

Chad put a hand over Chris’ chest and held him back. “It’s all good. We’re all friends here.” He pointed his chin in the direction of the target. “You did good, kid.”

“Thanks,” Jared said without emotion. He looked down at their joined hands and Jensen tightened his grip a little. They stayed like that all the way back to the house but as soon as the door closed behind them, Jared dropped his hand. Jensen immediately missed the contact.

“I’m going to go wash up. Get the smell of gunpowder off me,” Jared said, leaving him standing in the living room. Jensen felt exhausted.

Chris walked in shortly after and looked in the direction of the running shower. He followed Jensen to the kitchen. In a low voice, he said, “Do you think it’s a good idea teaching the kid you kidnapped how to more effectively kill you? I saw that kid’s face. He’s not as into you as you think.”

Jensen pulled meat out of the freezer and dumped it on the counter. He took out a cutting board and various spices. He was trying to mask his emotions by keeping busy before he responded but Chris always had a sharp eye.

“You think he’s playing you, too,” Chris guessed.

Jensen denied it. “No,” he said too loudly. Then lowering his voice, “No. It’s not a game for him. For either of us. I know he... “ Jensen trailed off, not able to voice the lie. “He’s just adjusting to his feelings for me. He needs time.”

Chris’ expression was sad, pitying even and Jensen wanted to scream. What would he say to his friend’s advice if he didn’t actually know they were just pretending? If Jared had taken Misha's advice and played on his feelings for him? Deep down, in a place he refused to look, he hoped their charade was changing things between them.

Chris filled the silence. “There are other things going on here. The mess with Ross and Pellegrino. Not to mention your suspicions about all of us. You can't let that kid distract you.”

Jensen quickly looked up, feigning confusion, “Suspicions? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Chris gave him a flat look. “We’re not stupid, Jensen. We know you have Alona sniffing around our accounts. You think one of us is out to get you. Like Misha said. Take it from me, she’s the last person you want digging around for dirt. She and I...”

Jensen cut him off, not really listening. “I know you’re not stupid but you have nothing to worry about. Honestly. Those searches were basic in-house security stuff.”

“Uh huh. So you’re having your security team investigated for security purposes.” Chris walked past him, bumped his side and pushed him out of the way of the refrigerator. He grabbed a beer, popped the cap off and took a long pull. “That’s bullshit and we both know it. I don’t know what’s going on and I’ll let you do whatever it is you think you need to do but don’t forget who your real friends are.” He pointed a finger in the direction of the shower, “Don’t think you can rely on that kid as backup when this shit hits the fan. You’ll be the first person he shoots.”

He didn’t give Jensen time to respond. Chris walked out the backdoor and headed in the direction of the barracks. He yelled out, “I’ll be back in time for those steaks. I want mine bloody.”

Jensen ran his fingers through his hair and noticed his hands were shaking. He looked around the spacious kitchen and felt the walls closing in. He wanted to see Jared. Remind him how he’d gotten himself into this mess and why he was doing everything that went against his nature to get them all out of it. He didn’t want to lose anyone. He didn’t want to lose Jared.

He picked up Chad’s empty beer bottle and threw it against the wall. He was getting sick and tired of people telling him he meant nothing to Jared. He hated the feelings of guilt and insecurity Jared aroused. He wanted the world to make sense like it always had. A world of his design. Predator versus prey. Conqueror versus the conquered. Everything that was happening made him wonder if he was ever in control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is in no way a guide on to how to use a gun. Please refer to a professional if you want to learn how to shoot. These are just a few of the basic rules.
> 
> Again, thanks for all the kudos and comments!


	25. Chapter 25

The argument began with a simple question.

Everyone was sitting around an elaborate fire pit after a dinner of grilled steaks, drinking beer, joking and talking about nothing, when Jared asked, “How did you guys meet Jensen?” It was an innocent question. One common to that type of gathering.

They all seem to hesitate but then Misha spoke up. “Jensen and I met in college.”

Without thinking, Jared replied, “Cornell, right?”

Wiping his mouth after taking a too big sip of beer, Misha nodded. “That’s right. I’m surprised Jensen didn’t mention it when he told you about where he went to school.”

Jared almost said Jensen didn’t tell him, that he discovered it when he did his internet searches, but he was too busy panicking over the stupid question he asked. He didn’t want to know how Jensen met a mercenary and an assassin.

Chris looked at Chad and smirked. “I work for a private security firm. I’m sort of Jensen’s bodyguard.”

Jared was expected to say, _“And you, Chad?”_ He wasn’t nearly that suicidal.

Chad kept his eyes on Jensen and Jensen shook his head. Chad smiled wolfishly and answered Jared anyway. “Misha’s wife hired me to kill him. Jensen paid me more to kill her instead.”

“Sonofabitch,” Jensen exclaimed. “Was that really necessary?”

Chad shrugged, pulled at the label of the beer bottle he finished but hadn’t put down yet. “I could have been kidding, Jen. You just confirmed it.” He turned his eyes on Jared and noticed Jared had begun to tremble. “Don’t worry, kid. Jensen hasn’t hired me to kill you.” He waited a beat and winked. “Yet.”

Jensen stood up. He seemed at a loss of what to do but he avoided meeting Jared’s eyes. Jared grabbed his hand and pulled him back into his lounge chair. He squeezed Jensen’s hand and tried to reassure him. For Jensen’s sake or his own, he wasn’t really sure.

“I already knew you were bad guys. Misha told me I was living in a den of murderers and thieves. I believe you are all capable of murder.”

Chris and Chad chuckled, Misha looked betrayed, and Jensen was vibrating with anger. “Just what the fuck have you been telling him about me, Misha? About Liane? How to play me? What the fuck is your agenda?”

Misha met his anger with equal force. “My agenda is to prevent this little twink from ruining all our lives. How do you think it will go when he tells the police about us once you take him back to the states? And shouldn’t he know who you really are? If you two are so fucking in love,” he gestured to their clasped hands, “imagine how much he’d like you if he knew you paid Henry Ross to seduce his girlfriend.” Misha said it like he was dropping a bomb.

Jensen tried to stand again, probably to punch Misha in the face, but Jared firmly held his hand and forced a shrug. “I knew that already. Jensen told me. He also told me Henry was murdered.”

Everyone started talking at once. Jensen yelling at Misha. Chris and Chad yelling at Jensen. Misha telling Jared he was a fool who should learn to keep his mouth shut. Jared let it go on for as long as he could stand it. Then he yelled, “All of you. Shut the fuck up!”

They all were so shocked they stopped yelling.

“I already gave Jensen an alibi. I told my ex girlfriend I was on vacation with my boyfriend when I found out she was harassing my grandmother. I’d rather lie to the cops than let my grandmother think I was in trouble and she didn’t do anything about it.”

Misha snorted. “Lie? I thought you were Jensen’s boyfriend now?”

Chris sneered, “I knew you were fucking playing him.”

Chad chimed in, “If you think we would all go through the trouble of keeping Jensen safe just to let you…”

Jared interrupted him and yelled. “I said shut up!" He took a deep breath to calm himself and continued. “My feelings for Jensen are complicated. I haven’t forgiven him for what he did to me but you all hand a hand in it. If I can sit here and share a meal with you without wanting to shove you into the fire, then I can change my mind about Jensen. He’s the only one here who doesn’t treat me like shit.” Jared surprised himself when he realized what he said was true.

No one said anything.

“I don’t plan on turning you in. Any of you. In spite of what you say he did to Misha’s wife, I don’t believe Jensen is capable of cold blooded murder. I can’t say the same for any of you.”

Chad understood what Jared was implying. “We wouldn’t hurt Jensen.”

Jared wasn’t so sure about that.

Jensen finally had enough. “I trust Jared, and not just because I’m in love with him. He has no reason to betray me.”

“And we do? After everything, Jen. You honestly believe we would do that to you? Frame you for murder,” Misha asked. 

Jensen didn’t respond.

Misha was hurt and angry. “You sonofabitch. You do. You actually believe it’s one of us.” He gestured to Chad and Chris. Chad and Chris kept their feelings masked.

Jared was stunned that Jensen said he was in love with him but as suddenly as he realized he had feelings for Jensen too, another thought struck him.

“Did you ever think whoever is setting Jensen up wants exactly this. All of you at each other’s throats, angry and suspicious?”

If there was a traitor among them, he imagined that person would jump right on what he said. No one wanted to be the first one to voice their thoughts aloud.

It was Chad who finally spoke. “It makes sense. Divide and conquer.”

Jared nodded. “Maybe Pellegrino knows the only way to take Jensen down is to completely isolate him.”

Chris’ veneer cracked. “Jesus Christ, Jensen. How much have you told this kid? Do you even know how reckless you’re being,” Chris shouted. “I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your life just to have you throw it away on some twink who doesn’t give two shits about you!”

“Don’t speak for me,” Jared interrupted.

Chris pointed a finger at him and yelled, “You stay of this.”

“No. This is about me, isn’t it? My great scheme to lure Jensen in and kill you all? Just one more person out to get him?”

“You trying to tell me that isn’t your game? Kid, a few weeks ago Jensen had you so drugged up you were drooling down your shirt. And I was the one who had to clean you up. You were so pissed every time he touched you that we had to tie you down. Suddenly now you’re ok with all this,” Chris twirled his finger in the air. 

“I’m not ok with any of it. You being mercenary. Chad being a psychopath assassin." Chad snorted. "You,” Jared directed at Misha, “you’re a lawyer. Aren’t you supposed to pretend to obey the law?”

“I think what we do is none of your business. We’re here for Jensen, not you.” Everyone seemed to agree with Chris.

Jensen sighed. “Stop taking this out on him. This isn’t his fault. It’s mine. I know you think I’m making a mistake. I know I did. You all warned me. But I’m never going to be able to make it right if I keep lying to him. I’m tired of hurting him.”

“Then let him go,” Misha said.

Jensen sighed, resigned. “I will when I know he’ll be safe.”

Jared didn’t know why but Jensen’s words made him feel sick. He didn’t want Jensen to let him go. He wanted to comfort Jensen. Protect him. He needed Jensen to do the same. Confused and conflicted, he tried to focus on what he knew he could control. At the moment, that was very little.

Chris rubbed his eyes. “I need another beer.” He stood and walked over to the cooler and grabbed a bottle.

“Grab me one,” Chad said.

“Anyone else,” Chris asked. Everyone else shook their heads.

Jensen stood up again, pulling Jared with him. “I’m tired of fighting. If someone is playing us, pitting us against one another, we won’t figure it out by screaming. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

No one said anything as Jensen led him away. Jared heard a murmured conversation begin.

Jensen dropped Jared’s hand as soon as they got into the house. “I’m going to take a shower.”

Jared didn’t respond, confused by Jensen’s suddenly cool demeanor. He followed Jensen into the bedroom and watched as Jensen grabbed clothes and headed to the bathroom. Even though Jensen quietly shut the door, it felt like it was slammed in his face.

They didn’t say anything when they switched places. Jared in the shower and Jensen preparing his bed on the couch.

It was only later that night that Jared worked up the courage to ask, “Did you mean it?” Jared didn’t need to clarify what “it” was. Maybe it was why Jensen was being so cold.

“Yes.”

“Then why do you seem angry?”

“Because that’s the last thing you need right now.”

Jared didn’t know what to say, so he changed the subject. “I’m sorry I started a fight. I didn’t mean to…”

Jensen interrupted, “Never apologize for anything, Jared. None of this is your fault. Everything that’s happening. All of it is on me. I brought Pellegrino into our lives. I forced my friends to participate in your abduction even though they tried talk me out of it," he said, then lowered his voice. Jared strained to hear him. “All of this my fault.”

“I still shouldn’t make it worse. They could be working against you. Or not. My alienating them won’t help us figure the truth.”

“Us,” Jensen asked.

“Yes, us. You’re not in this alone, Jensen.”

“Is that because I put your life in danger?”

“That’s part of it. I also meant what I said.” Jared turned on his back, staring up at the fan noiselessly spinning above him.

“Which part?”

Jared sighed. He didn’t want to admit this to himself, let alone be forced to admit it to Jensen. “My feelings for you are complicated.”

Jensen didn’t say anything. Jared supposed he didn’t know what to say and didn’t want to ask for clarification.

“I don’t hate you. Not like I did. I spent so much of my life hating you.”

“Why would that change?” Jared listened to Jensen turn on his side, heard the comforter fall to the ground.

“Does it matter,” he asked. “I just don’t hate you anymore.”

Jensen wrestled around some more and Jared got tired of listening to him struggle. “Come get in bed with me. You’re obviously too tall for that couch.”

“I’m fine. I deserve a bit of discomfort.”

Jared got annoyed. “I wasn’t asking, Jensen. Come get in bed.”

Jensen hesitated but eventually got up. Jared didn’t look at him as he pulled back the covers and slipped in beside him. Jensen turned away from Jared, purposely staying as close to the edge as possible.

With as cold as Jensen was being, Jared felt more alone having him next to him. He turned over on his side, facing Jensen’s back. Then, before he thought better of it, he pulled Jensen by the shoulder and Jensen fell on his back. He scooted over on top Jensen’s arm, rested his head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his waist.

“What are you doing, Jared,” Jensen asked, confused.

“I’m letting you hold me. Or I’m making you hold me. Either way, I just need to be held.”

Jensen tightened his arm and pulled Jared in. Jared snuggled in closer, tossing a leg over Jensen’s thighs.

“I’m so afraid,” he whispered.

Jensen didn't respond but Jared felt Jensen kiss the top of his head.

Jared listened to Jensen’s breath even out until he was certain Jensen had fallen asleep. It was startling when Jensen spoke again. “I do love you.”

“I know.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because the previous Chapter 26 and 27 were deleted (see Author's Note), this chapter picks up the morning after the fight at the BBQ and Jared falling asleep in Jensen's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N
> 
> Ok, first I want to say thank you to everyone who sent me an encouraging message. It made returning to this so much easier.
> 
> Secondly, I am SO SORRY it's taken me this long to update. I never had any intention of taking a break for the summer but my home remodeling is kicking my ass. I have four rooms done and two to go. Not terrible but definitely time and sanity consuming. Thank you for hanging in there with me and my story.
> 
> Third, I did the worst thing someone writing a serialized fiction can do. I deleted chapters. The last two chapters I posted, 26 and 27, were awful. I hated them. After taking a break and rereading this, I knew they had to go. If I kept on the track they were leading me, they would have driven this story straight to my trashcan. I am so sorry. This chapter will be confusing because I cannibalized part of the old chapter 26, but it is not the same. Some of the dialogue is the same but the plot surrounding it has changed.
> 
> SO, What's changed?
> 
> Well, Alona's whole backstory had to go. I didn't like the idea of her killing her parents. Just...blech. I also tweaked a bit of the boys' discussion about what's going on. After a few rereads, it just didn't make sense.
> 
> All of chapter 27 was trashed. J2s interactions felt off and I didn't want Misha bitching Jared out. It just felt ... blech.
> 
> So, this chapter is new. There's a lot of stuff in here, so please read it. It's an extra long chapter and I added some SEXY TIMES to make up for confusing you.
> 
> THANK YOU again for reading this, taking the time to leave kudos and comments, and being patient with me while I let real life get in the way. I should be back to regular posting, barring some unforeseen house drama.
> 
> I love you all!
> 
> xx Lily
> 
> PS One more thing I forgot to add. I updated the tags. Please read them so you have fair warning about where this story is heading. Not too spoilery I hope.

Jensen woke up alone, the spot next to him cold. Jared must have been up for a while. He wasn’t sure what to think about how much that disappointed him. Jared fell asleep in his arms. That was more than he ever thought he’d have with a willing Jared. It didn’t stop him from wanting more. Wanting it all.

He picked up his phone to check the time. 8:34 am. He was just about to check his email when heard the bathroom door open and looked up to see Jared standing there in just a towel, staring at him. His long hair was wet, dripping water droplets down his bare chest. His nipples were hard little buds, and Jensen wanted to kiss and bite his way up from his cut hipbones, over his sculpted body, and take one of them into his mouth. He dropped his phone on the nightstand and pushed his cock down. He couldn’t look away but he didn’t know what to say.

“I hate how you make me feel,” Jared said.

Jensen felt Jared studying him as closely. His breathing picked up, heat pooling low in his belly. He wasn’t sure he wanted Jared to continue. Didn’t want to ruin the electricity pulsing between them. He pushed the covers down and sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. He kept his hands fisted in the sheets so he didn’t reach out and touch.

“How do I make you feel, Jared?”

“You override my reason, make want you. I hate how badly I want you to fuck me.”

Jensen sucked in a breath. He didn’t take his eyes off Jared’s face until Jared dropped his towel and started walking slowly toward the bed. Jared’s cock was thick and hard, framed by dark curls. His balls hung heavy as he walked. There was no hesitation in his steps, and Jensen wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do when Jared reached the edge of the bed and stood between his parted legs. Jared looked down and smirked when he saw Jensen’s sleep pants were wet where his cock dribbled pre-come into the fabric.

Jared ran his fingers through Jensen’s messy hair, then leaned down to brush a kiss across Jensen’s mouth. He could feel Jared's breath against his lips when he spoke. “I want you, Jensen. Of all the things you’ve done to me, making me want you is the worst.”

Jensen moaned and lifted his hands to Jared’s naked waist, pulling him closer. He opened his mouth for Jared’s exploration. Jared tasted like mint toothpaste and kissed like he was starving for it. It took everything Jensen had to let Jared take the lead when his insides were screaming for him to grab Jared and toss him on the bed. 

“You can touch me, Jensen,” Jared whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. He started a trail of open-mouth kisses down Jensen’s neck and Jensen titled his head to the side to give him access. When Jared bit down, Jensen’s control snapped. He grabbed Jared and pushed him down on the bed. Jared clambered backward, though not to get away. He settled in the center of the bed and watched Jensen stand to remove his clothes.

“How do you want me to touch you? With my hands? Tongue? Teeth? Do you want my cock?”

Jared groaned and grabbed his dick, squeezing it to slow his orgasm. Jensen had never seen anything sexier. “Your hands,” Jared breathed. “Put your hands on me.”

Jensen crawled up the bed and settled between Jared’s spread legs. He curled his fingers around Jared’s cock and leaned forward to capture his mouth again. Jared moaned into the kiss and braced his hands on Jensen’s arms as he pushed his cock into Jensen’s fist.

“Fuck, Jared. So fucking hot.”

Jensen thumbed the beads of pre-come coating the head, then spread it around Jared’s hot length. Jared closed his eyes.

“Look at me, Jared.”

Jared’s eyes snapped open and for a moment, Jensen saw a flash of panic. His strokes slowed, waiting for a sign that he should stop, but Jared reached forward and grabbed Jensen’s cock, brushing his thumb around the head and down the thick vein. The feeling was so exquisite, Jensen took a few breaths to calm himself. With a few strokes, he was embarrassingly close to coming.

They fisted one another and found a rhythm, never breaking eye contact. Jensen watched as a beautiful flush blossomed over Jared’s chest and cheeks. Every broken gasp, every desperate _please, Jensen,_ and moan went straight to Jensen’s balls. He increased his strokes and twisted his wrist to make Jared come before he did.

“Jensen,” Jared breathed. “I’m gonna...oh fuck.”

Jared came all over Jensen’s hand. Jensen came shortly after, painting Jared’s stomach in come, and they slowly stroked each other through their orgasms. After a while, Jared let go. Jensen did the same, then fell onto the bed next to Jared, listening as their labored breathing slowed.

“Jared,” Jensen said, reaching over to grab his hand. “That was incredible. You’re amazing. God, the things I want to do to you.”

Jared pulled his hand back and bolted upright, then stumbled getting out of the bed.

Reaching out to grab him, Jensen asked, “Wait. What’s wrong? Did I hurt? I know I can be kind of rough.”

“Nothing,” Jared said, grabbing his towel. “I just need to get cleaned up. I’m fine.”

Before Jensen could say anything, Jared slammed the bathroom door closed and locked it.

Fuck. What the hell just happened?

Jensen waited 15 minutes after he heard Jared start the shower again, then got up, grabbed himself clothes for the day and went to clean up in another bathroom.

Wanting to give Jared space, Jensen decided to make breakfast.

Chris and Misha were having a quiet discussion and looked up at the same time when Jensen entered the kitchen.

Misha eyed Jensen cautiously. Clearing his throat, he said, “Good morning, Jen. Sleep well?”

Jensen headed straight to the coffee pot, pulled a coffee mug out of the cupboard, and poured himself a cup before he answered. Taking his first too hot sip and swallowing down the burn, he said, “I did. And you?”

“I did,” Misha replied.

He turned to Chris and forced a smile. “Good morning, Chris. How did you sleep?”

Chris snorted. “Fan-fucking-tastic.” They stared at each other before Chris added, “Well, this isn’t awkward at all.”

Jensen huffed a laugh, turned his back, and set his mug down. He went to the refrigerator and pulled out everything he’d need to make breakfast. “I assume you two want to pick up yelling at me from where you left off yesterday.”

Frustrated, Chris ran his hands through his hair, then settled them on the table. “No, Jensen. We didn’t… _I_ didn’t mean to let it get out of hand. Jared gave us an opening and we took it too far. I’m sorry.” When Jensen didn’t respond, Chris changed tactics. “Look, I get that you like the kid.”

“Love,” Jensen interrupted. “I love him. And it’s Jared. Not kid or twink or piece of ass. His name is Jared.”

“Love, whatever,” Chris waved his hand around. “I get that. None of us doubt your obsession.”

Jensen turned to glare at him and Chris held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. I’m really not trying to be a dick here. I’m trying to understand.” He looked to Misha for help.

Misha leaned back and gave his best _trust me, I’m your lawyer_ expression. “We’re not trying to piss you off. Or disrupt whatever you have going with Jared.”

“Good,” Jensen said, irritated. “Then we can stop discussing this.” He wasn’t sure what, if anything, he and Jared had going on. This morning was one more confusing encounter.

Undeterred, Misha continued, “ _But_ ….we have a right to know what you’re planning on doing with him. We’re just as invested as you. We’ve dedicated months of our lives to help you keep him here and we have just as much to lose.”

Pushing everything he took out of the refrigerator to the side, Jensen picked his coffee mug up and sat at the table. For the first time in weeks, he took the time to really look at his men. Men who considered themselves his friend. Chris’ eyes were bloodshot and Misha had dark circles under his. They both looked worried and worn out, not at all the carefree people who came to the island with him. Jensen had been so caught up in Jared and Alois’ warning that he didn’t consider what harm he might be doing to people who may have done nothing wrong. He really was an asshole.

He tried to explain something he wasn’t sure he understood. “You have every right to be pissed at me. As far as Jared goes, I don’t know what to tell you. I thought...I hoped he’d come to care for me. I thought that over time he’d warm up to me. I see now how arrogant that was. I don’t know what he feels for me but I know a lot of it is influenced by his captivity.” Jensen stared at his hands, unwilling to look them in the eye. It was difficult not to recall Jared’s breathy moans or how good it felt knowing Jared wanted him. He knew there was only one thing he could do to make it right. “If he wants to go home, I’ll take him home.”

“What happens to us,” Misha asked softly. “This goes beyond you two.”

“I know. If Jared goes to the police, I’ll tell them none of you had any idea he was here against his will. I got us into this mess, I’ll take the fall. I can pay Gray and the others enough to back up my story.”

“Can’t you just pay Jared off,” Chris asked. “The ki… Jared’s family used to have money. Maybe he still has a taste for it.”

Shoving away from the table, Jensen shouted, “Fuck, Chris. No! He’s not a whore. If he wants money, he can have it. I’m not going to pay him off just to absolve my conscience.”

Chris and Misha had nothing to say to that, and Jensen took the opportunity to change the subject. “I can’t change what I’ve done but I can be proactive about keeping us out of prison.” He turned to Chris, “I need you to doctor the passenger manifest for my flight to New York.”

Sufficiently redirected, Chris asked in confusion, “Why?”

“Jared told his ex-girlfriend that he was with me in New York. If I’m brought in for questioning for Henry Ross’ murder, I need the right documentation to back up his story.”

Chris’ eyes met Misha’s and they had a silent conversation. Misha shrugged. Chris said, “I can do that. Forging manifest papers is easy enough. Bribing enough of the right people to say they saw Jared, including the doorman who knows about the break-in, is going to be expensive.” Chris looked in the direction of the bedroom he shared with Jared. “It’s only going to work if Jared goes along with it.”

“He will,” Jensen said more confidently than he felt. He wished he knew what had happened to spook him this morning. He turned his back and returned to the task of making breakfast. 

Misha got up and joined him. He pulled out a few pans and began on the bacon while Jensen worked on the eggs. They’d done this so often when they shared an apartment after college that they moved around each other effortlessly. It hurt to think that his cruelty and paranoia might have permanently damaged their relationship.

“How can you be so sure, Jen? You’re taking a huge risk,” Misha asked.

“Bigger than the one I took bringing him here? What’s done is done. It’s time I start cleaning up my mess,” Jensen replied. “You need to pick the right people, Chris. Reliable. Those who won’t fold at the sign of an NYPD badge.”

Chris nodded and pulled out his phone, typed out a text and sent it. He set his phone down and picked up his coffee cup, took a sip. “It’ll take some work but I can get it done. I have a friend who owes me a favor.”

“What about Alona,” Misha asked, turning the bacon over and lowering the heat. “You have to get her to agree that Jared was with you too.”

Chris barked a laugh, almost spitting out his coffee. “Then we’re fucked. That woman can’t lie for shit.”

That got Jensen’s attention. “What are you talking about?”

Misha turned to Chris and raised an eyebrow but Chris shook his head. Misha said, “He’s going to find out one way or another. Better you tell him than let him think you were hiding it for some nefarious reason.”

Jensen kept his focus on cooking but his voice was firm. “Tell me.” 

“Alona and I...We kind of had a thing.”

Jensen whipped his head around and laughed. “No way! She was your internet girlfriend?”

Chris flipped him off and Misha snickered. 

“Assholes.”

Chris took a deep, calming breath and continued, “Alona and I had a thing going for a while but a few months back she started acting strangely. Kept asking me all kinds of questions about my work, what I did for you, what I knew about Jared. Asked if we should worry some kidnap and ransom team would swoop down on the island. Wanted to know how it worked.” He paused, then asked, “You know that’s something my company does, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jensen said, ignoring the irony. 

Chris continued, “She said she was only asking because she was worried about you but something about it didn’t feel right.”

“What was that,” Jensen asked, turning to read Chris’ face when he answered. He wasn’t sure who he trusted at the moment but he’d never questioned Chris’ instincts. Chris had always been honest with him, even when he didn’t want him to be.

“Because she was trying too hard to be casual, played it too innocent to be sincere. I fucked that woman. There’s nothing casual or innocent about her. She didn’t claw her way up the backs of half your company to get the position she has by playing coy.”

Jensen tried to think back over conversations he’d had with her in the last six months and realized he’d also noticed a change in her behavior but wrote it off as work-related stress. He put a tremendous amount of responsibility on her shoulders and if she couldn’t handle a little stress, she should find a new line of work. He was also too preoccupied with Jared to look for another reason.

“This all started when I brought Jared here,” Jensen asked. He turned the burner off, pulled out a serving platter and dumped the eggs on it. 

“No,” Chris replied. “A little before that. Right around the time you were finalizing the takeover of PSI.”

“What else did she want to know?” 

Chris stood and pulled a stack of plates out of the cupboard and silverware out of a drawer, then began setting the table. “Mostly about customs inspections, the process, how people evade it. She wanted to know how long it might take for a person who’s been abducted to end up in a shipping container, where they might be shipped to, and who would buy them.”

“That’s odd but it’s in line with what I’d asked her to do,” Jensen replied. He pulled out a jug of orange juice from the refrigerator and set it on the table. Misha grabbed the glasses. “Maybe she was looking for a way to find a connection to Pellegrino.”

“Henry Ross was looking into Pellegrino,” Chris said, returning to his seat and pouring himself a glass of OJ. “Her job was to direct the investigators. And she never mentioned Pellegrino to me. Never asked me to use my considerable contacts to assist in the search.”

Stunned, Jensen whispered, “You think he got to her.”

“I’m not saying anything like that. I’m just saying she’s a shitty liar. Or, if she’s in bed with Pellegrino, a fantastic one.”

Jensen placed two pieces of bread in the toaster, then turned back to Chris. “I don’t remember asking Ross to look into Pellegrino. He was too much of a scumbag to trust with something like that. If I didn’t, Alona did. But why kill him?” 

Chris asked, “You say he went on the run before he was murdered?”

“That’s what Alona said.” 

Chris thought about it for a moment. “He may have found something more damning than selling people. Something that pissed off the mob.”

The toast popped up and Jensen pulled the bread out of the toaster, swearing when it burned his fingers. He stacked them on a plate and added two more pieces. “You think that’s what they were looking for in my apartment? Something Henry sent me?”

“It’s possible.”

Still uncertain what all this meant, Jensen asked, “If Alona was the one to ask him to investigate, why wouldn’t he trust her with whatever he found?”

Chris was silent long enough that Jensen turned again to look at him. Chris’ voice was cold and steady when he met Jensen’s eyes. “Maybe he did and that’s what got him killed.”

That added a whole new level to how fucked this situation was. He needed to know what Ross discovered.

Misha remained uncharacteristically unopinionated. “You’re awfully quiet, Misha. Anything to add,” Jensen asked.

Misha used tongs to pile the bacon on a plate and set it on the table with the eggs. He turned the burner off and set the pan in the sink. He washed and dried his hands, leaned back against the counter and folded his arms over his chest. Whatever he had to say, he was taking his sweet time.

“Maybe Jared is right,” he finally said.

Jensen huffed a laugh. That’s new. “Right about what?”

“Pellegrino playing us. You’re suspicious of us and now we’re adding Alona to the mix because Chris had a bad breakup?”

“Fuck you,” Chris said.

Misha held up a hand, “I’m not trying to piss you off, Chris.”

“No, you’re just questioning my judgment.”

Misha dropped his arms and awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I have my doubts about her too. She stepped on a lot of people to get her position, yet doesn’t want the title to go with it. Why? Because she hates publicity? Why is she so afraid of the press? What is she hiding? It’s one of the reasons why I didn’t want her poking around in my accounts.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Your confidence in me is heartwarming,” Chris said.

Jensen ignored him. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this, Misha. You don’t think we should be suspicious of her because we might be getting played but then you give me a pretty solid reason not to trust her.”

“I,” Misha began, paused for a beat, then lowered his head. “I honestly don’t know. I trust Chris. He knows how to read people.” He gave Chris a small smile which Chris returned with a nod. “I worry that all this Pellegrino shit is making us paranoid. We have no proof Alona had anything to do with what Ross was looking for or his murder. It’s all speculation. I think she deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

Jensen let out a frustrated breath. “We’re all tangled in Pellegrino’s web and he’s barely had to lift a finger.”

“He did have Henry Ross murdered and tried to make it look like you did it,” Chris reminded him. “If Ross found something, killing him before he got it to you was a way to kill two problems at once.”

Jensen was sick of this shit. “I’m starting to think that might not be a bad idea.”

“What? Frame you or murder someone,” Chris asked, incredulously.

Without a hint of sarcasm, Jensen said, “Murder Pellegrino.”

“You’d have the mob all over your ass,” Chris exclaimed.

“Not if I got permission. Pellegrino’s a middleman, right? So loosely connected that I didn’t know he was a mobster. There’s always someone higher up the food chain willing cut their losses for the right price.”

Misha’s eyes widened, “You’re serious?”

“I’d put the bullet in his head myself.”

“Don’t be stealing work from me,” Chad quipped from the back doorway. His hair was damp and Jensen looked out the window and saw a light rain had begun to fall. He was still in shorts and a t-shirt, so at least the warmth was holding. Chad nodded to Chris who stood and lifted the strap of his weapon over his shoulder, leaving his breakfast half-finished.

Jensen raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Shift change. Instead of patrolling together, we’re doing it in eight-hour rotations,” Chad replied.

“Why,” Jensen asked.

“Someone on this island is feeding Pellegrino information. We have no idea who, or how and when they’ll use it,” Chad answered.

“It _might_ be someone on this island,” Chris corrected. “I’ve known Carlos and Matt longer than you, Jen. Hell, I went to war with Carlos. I was a groomsman at Matt’s wedding. They’re good men. I wouldn’t have hired them if they weren’t. If they’ve somehow been compromised, it isn’t because of money. Not everyone is as greedy as Alona.” Chad actually growled, his usually sunny smile grown cold. Chris reached over and squeezed Chad’s arm, trying to ease the tension in the room. Chad gave Chris’ hand a quick squeeze, then they both looked up and noticed their audience. Jensen wasn’t sure he wanted to know what that was all about.

"I’ll look into it,” Chris said. He grabbed a piece of toast, stuffed it in his mouth and spoke as he swallowed, “Be back in eight.” 

Chad watched him go, then sat in a chair and began to pile eggs and bacon on a plate. Misha poured him a cup of coffee which Chad accepted with a grateful smile. 

Misha sat down and began to fix his own plate. “My contact at the NYPD hasn’t said a word about Jared. If Pellegrino is sitting on the information he collection at your apartment, he’s waiting for something, or whatever Ross found had nothing to do with Jared. Right now the police are looking into every cheating spouse, every insurance scammer and angry ex-con Ross might have pissed off. The detective I have on payroll is making sure your name is being mentioned only because you were one of his clients.” 

“Good. Thank you,” Jensen said.

Misha acknowledged it with a grunt and tucked into his breakfast.

“We need to know what they took from my apartment. Put pressure on Mrs. Harrison. Find out who hired her.”

“Your housekeeper,” Chad asked.

Jensen nodded. “She picked up my mail and got paid to let them in. She may know what they were looking for.”

Chad took a bite, chewed for several moments and took a sip of coffee to wash it down before he responded. “This would be easier to do in New York. I’d rather do the wet work myself than contract it out.”

Jensen rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say kill her, Chad.”

Chad shrugged. “It might be necessary - or kill one of her sons. It’s probably the same threat Pellegrino is using to keep her quiet.”

There was a time when Jensen thought about asking Chad to kill his mother. As much as he hated her, he remembered how sick he felt knowing he’d even considered it. Now, knowing it might be the only way to protect Jared, he wouldn’t hesitate. It should bother him more than it did.

Jensen sat down next to Misha and began to fix himself a plate. He’d waited too long and the eggs were getting cold. He hated cold eggs. “We’ll save that option until it’s absolutely necessary,” he said.

Misha turned to him with wide, surprised eyes. “Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen! You’d have some poor old lady’s kid murdered for information? This isn't you.”

Jensen scoffed. “This isn’t me? I had your wife killed. This is more than just clearing my name and saving Jared. This is about protecting the company I built, everything I’ve worked for - everything _we’ve_ worked for. If you think Pellegrino and the mob will stop at me, you’re fooling yourself. And don’t forget that poor old lady sold me out to pay for her kids’ college.”

Misha stared at him a moment, then pushed his plate away. “Fuck.”

“What about Gray,” Jensen asked. “What do we know about him?”

“Nothing beyond his ability as a pilot and insatiable greed. He did help you abduct a man,” Chad replied before stuffing another forkful of egg in his mouth.

“So did you,” Jensen said sarcastically. “Keep an eye on him. He’s the most likely suspect.”

Chad nodded but didn’t look up from his plate. “Will do.”

They ate in silence for a while before Misha asked. “Will Jared be joining us? I can put a plate in the over for him to keep it warm.”

Jensen hesitated, remembering Jared’s sudden mood change earlier. He’d love nothing more than to have Jared next to him. “I’m not sure. He wasn’t feeling well this morning.”

Misha nodded. “I’ll make him a plate just in case. He can reheat it later.”

Appreciating Misha’s attempt to make Jared feel welcome, Jensen smiled and said, “Thank you.”

None of them noticed Jared listening in the hallway just out of sight or heard him turn and slip out the front door.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> I'm so sorry it's taken this long to post. I injured my shoulder and my muse fled. I also suffer from major depression and this winter has been particularly brutal. But my muse felt like peeking out for a bit, so I was able to finish this short chapter. The rest of the story has been mapped out and I've been writing it in my head. I know where I'm going and how I'm getting there, so there's no fear that this will remain WIP forever.
> 
> Thank you for your patience and continuing to read.

Jared was running. Not nearly fast or far enough to get away but still he ran. He had this wild fantasy of forcing his way off the island. Could he take the boat? No. There’d be no way he could untie, pull anchor and get to the helm before attracting attention; it was too close to the barracks. And how would he get the keys? Jensen had given him a gun - a gun he’d forgotten in his room. Could he find the pilot and force him into the helicopter? Could he hold off several heavily armed men and make him fly to Puerto Rico? Not a chance.

So he ran. To clear his head, to settle his panic, to get away from Jensen and his hands, his mouth, his declaration that he’d kill to keep Jared safe. To banish the shame and dread that sat heavy in his chest.

He’d taken the MP3 player Jensen had given him and snuck out while Jensen and his men talked; his usual bodyguard/babysitter didn’t know to follow. Listening to the angriest playlist he could find, he headed in the opposite direction of barracks, where the stretch of land spread out furthest from the house, and let his body carry him as far as it could before he passed out from exhaustion. The light rain felt good on his face as his feet pounded wet sand. And though the high humidity was cloying, it kept him warm in his shorts and thin t-shirt; both now soaked to the skin. 

The weather gave him a sense of being cocooned in a world of his own. It was the first time in months he felt free and he didn’t want it to end. He glanced toward the ocean. If there were anywhere to swim to, he might attempt it. 

He thought back to a conversation he had with Jensen a few days ago while they ate breakfast. He was looking out the window and saw Chris and Chad walk by, both carrying automatic rifles. 

_“Why do Chris and Chad wander around with weapons? Isn’t it a little difficult to sneak onto an island?”_

_“It’s a deterrent mostly,” Jensen had replied._

_Confused, Jared asked, “A deterrent to what?”_

_“Pirates.”_

_Jared blinked in surprise, then looked out at the water, wondering if he’d see a dark ship on the horizon._

_Jensen continued. “This island is too far, in every direction, from help. Private islands owned by oblivious rich people are easy pickings. It’s not difficult for a group to take a small boat from an anchored ship and raid a place. They come, steal everything they can, and kill everyone who might warn the authorities. They’re far away before someone comes looking.”_

_Jared had taken a nervous sip of his hot coffee to chase away the sudden dryness in his mouth and burned his tongue. He hissed before choking out, “And having people patrol the beach keeps them away?”_

_“It’s no guarantee, but if someone is watching they’ll know the people on it are armed and aware of the possibility. I imagine many avoid conflict when there’s no guarantee of a decent haul.”_

Jared had nothing to say to that. Most of his worries up until Jensen had taken him involved getting to class on time. He remembered fighting with his roommate over whose turn it was to take out the trash. Arguing with Jess about what clothes he wore to visit her parents. Whining about the B he got on a paper. He never imagined he’d be worried about armed men storming the beach. 

Jared didn’t see any ships today, though they could easily have been lost in the grey haze that blurred water and sky. He sighed. Whatever happened, it was out of his hands.

His legs were getting sore but he pressed on. He was trying not only tire himself out but escape his thoughts. He couldn’t keep Jensen out, couldn’t stop replaying the memory of their coupling. After his embarrassing retreat from the bed, he locked himself in the bathroom and only left to get clothes when he heard the bedroom door open and close. He had no plans to leave the house, he just didn't think he could face Jensen after what he'd said, what they'd done. He needed space. Had he known he would flee, he might have put on a light coat at the very least. When he finally summoned up the courage to join Jensen for breakfast, Jensen and his men were already deep in conversation.

Oh the things he heard. Things he needed to know but didn’t want to hear. He should have made a noise, alerted them to his presence, or turned around and waited for Jensen to seek him out. He should have interrupted, defended Jensen's housekeeper, tell them they were insane for thinking of hurting her. Anything but stay and listen.

He should have been repulsed by Jensen’s casual discussion of murder. He wasn’t. Jensen’s fervor to protect him at any cost gave him a heady, weightless feeling. No one had ever wanted him more or risked as much to be with him. It made it difficult to think clearly and not have his thoughts drift to all the people who seemed to have no problem leaving.

Once he had access to the internet, he expected to find emails from his friends at Stanford but there was nothing, not even a silly forward of a rollerskating cat. He would have passed it off as them being too busy but they'd spent almost all of the previous summer hanging out - he knew they had the time. It was as if once he was out of sight he was no longer worth keeping in touch with. It hurt that he meant so little to them. After Anthony and Jess, his heart felt bruised.

It was unfair to think of his parents, grandfather, and ailing grandmother in this way. Comparing his kidnapper to the people who’d left or were leaving him was crazy at best, and at worst, simply cruel, yet he couldn’t help feeling that there was something about him that made everyone leave.

The car crash that took his parents was a freak accident, and after what his grandmother told him, he now knew his grandfather believed suicide would protect his wife and grandson. As for his grandmother? She would give anything to spare him from having to watch her suffer. 

Jared’s lovers were a different story. Before Anthony was driven away by his parents’ homophobia they were very much in love. It was an immature love, something destined to end, but it meant something to him. As for Jess? Did he ever really love her? Or was his memory of his love for her diminished because she left him for a man with money? Would they still be together if Jensen hadn't interfered?

In the end, reasons didn’t matter. Good or bad, Jared ended up alone. It left him feeling lost and empty.

It should come as no surprise then that Jensen filled that void. Obsessive, dangerous, gorgeous Jensen. He couldn’t help the faint, hopeful part of him that wanted Jensen's feelings for him to be genuine. He felt wildly out of control of his own responses; the mismatch of desire and self-loathing, of want and fear of rejection, and he was too close to tell which would win out. 

It was madness and all these thoughts led to one inevitable conclusion: he'd been on the island too long and he needed to find a way off. He was slowly, surely going crazy.

Giving in to the signals from his aching body that he was done, he turned and began the run back to the house. He was within eyeshot of the house and so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, didn’t know anyone was there until a shoulder rammed into his spine and sent him falling to his knees. He had just enough time to register what happened before two sets of arms were pulling him up and dragging him towards the water. 

He didn’t have enough air in his lungs to scream, and he was already too exhausted from his run to do much but dig in his heels in, which left furrows in the sand as he was rapidly pulled. Panic set in as they hit the roiling surf and then he was being pushed beneath a shock of cold water. 

He kicked out and caught the shin one of his attackers, causing the man to stumble and giving him enough time to surface and take one desperate breath. All his instincts screamed at him to struggle, to survive. He didn’t want to die this way. When the man he kicked regained his balance, he grabbed Jared by the hair and pushed him once again beneath the waves. He thrashed and clawed at their arms, and his eyes burned from keeping them open in the salty water, but he needed to see, to look for an avenue of escape.

BANG BANG

Suddenly the arms pinning him down went lax and the men were falling on top of him, sending him further under. He tried to push them off but he had no leverage. He pushed and rolled over, used his hips and arms to dislodge the bodies. The water around him turned an inky black and it took a moment to realize why.

Oh God. _Blood._

Jared took one panicked inhalation and blood and water filled his lungs. He felt a hand grabbing at his shirt, tugging him up, and the bodies fell off of him. Someone had come to save him. They were too late.

The world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are food for the muse. They do so much to encourage me. Thank you to everyone who's taken the time.


	28. Chapter 28

Breakfast was interrupted by a text from Alona. Jensen read the message, his eyes widening, and he cursed. He stood, ignoring the concerned looks from Chad and Misha, and he headed to his office. Toeing the door shut behind him, he pressed quick dial. Before she could say hello, he whispered harshly into the phone. “What do you mean you talked to the police?”

“Hello to you too, Jensen.” 

“Cut the crap and tell me what happened.”

Sensing his mood, she cut to the chase. “A detective Jim Beaver came to my office today asking about Jared. I told him you two were on vacation together and that I didn't know your return date.” He heard the clicking of a turn signal and realized she must be in her car.

Jensen resisted the urge to throw his phone across the room. Leaning against the door, he tried to calm his heart rate. He heard some kind of commotion start up on the other side but ignored it. One problem at a time. “Did he ask about my time in New York or Henry Ross?”

“He asked about New York, no mention of Henry. I told him you were in town for a few days on business but left to rejoin Jared.”

“You didn't say Jared was with me?”

“No. Was I supposed to?”

“Dammit.” Chris didn’t get to her in time. Alona’s statement wouldn’t match with what Jared told Jess. There went that alibi. It would be up to the police to decide who they believed more: the bitter ex-girlfriend or his kidnapping victim.

“Alright, did he say why he was asking?” Chad’s voice grew louder but his was the only one he heard. He must be on the walkie or the phone. Jensen put a hand over the ear opposite the receiver so he could hear her reply.

“He said something about a girlfriend filing a missing persons report. He was pretty vague.”

“That dumb, desperate bitch.” He huffed, “Nothing I can do about it now, though I had hoped Chris spoke to you beforehand.”

“Chris? Why would he...what's going on? Did I say the wrong thing?”

“No, you're fine.” It wasn’t fine by any stretch of the imagination but telling her would remove any chance for plausible deniability. He’d failed to protect Chris and Chad, but maybe he could save Alona.

Alona let out a frustrated growl when he didn’t elaborate and Jensen couldn't fault her. He had a way of leaving her in the dark. He didn't mean to alienate her, but she couldn't know the full truth. She only had a vague idea of why Jared was with him, though guessed probably more than he would like.

Anxious silence settled between them before Alona quietly spoke. “You need to come home. It's time you ended whatever this is. You can't continue to ignore your businesses.”

Before he got a chance to respond, Chad banged his fist against the door. “We got a problem,” he said as he opened it without prompting. He had the walkie in one hand, his weapon slung over his shoulder, and Misha crowded up behind him, looking spooked. “Gray radioed in a panic, said there are men on the island. He doesn't know how many. He thinks Carlos and Matt smuggled them in when they took the boat to get supplies yesterday. He's currently hiding in a closet. You need to get to the panic room.”

BANG BANG

They all turned their heads in the direction of the shots that were too close to the house to be coming from the firing range. Chad ran to the window.

“Get in the panic room, NOW,” he commanded.

Jensen ignored him. He dropped his phone and headed to bedroom. Flinging open the door, he called out to Jared. Silence. He checked the bathroom and the closet, but Jared wasn’t there. Fuck. 

“JARED,” he shouted, racing into the hallway, flinging open guest rooms and bathrooms in his panic. Misha went in the opposite direction to help search.

It only took a minute to search the whole house, each room empty, each shout unanswered. Cold dread settled heavy in his stomach, and he returned to his office. Misha met up with him, shaking his head. Chad was trying to get Chris on the radio.

“He's not here. Where the hell is he,” he asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him this morning,” Misha said and looked to Chad.

“The shots came from the beach. Stay here and I'll go figure out what the hell is going on…”

Jensen cut Chad off. “Bullshit. Jared is missing. I'm going to find him.” He turned and headed toward the front door. Chad grabbed his arm but Jensen shook him off.

“Dammit Jensen, be rational.”

Jensen glared and turned to go. Chad stopped him again.

“At least take this,” he said, handing him a handgun. “Shoot anyone who isn't me or Chris.” To Misha he said, “Stay with him.”

Misha nodded and went to grab his own gun. He checked the clip, then returned it to it's holster. “Go, we'll be fine.”

Chad left, and Jensen and Misha took off at a run, heading toward where they heard the shots.

Jensen had barely crested the dunes when he saw Chris hovering over a prone Jared. Jared's white t-shirt and socks were soaked with blood. He wasn't moving. Jensen held up his gun and shouted, “Get away from him, Kane.”

Chris didn’t respond, so Jensen flicked off the safety, and fired a warning shot. Chris didn't even flinch. “I said get the fuck away.” He was still too far away to stop him from suffocating Jared, which he assumed he was doing, and he wasn't an accurate enough marksman to shoot Chris without the chance of hitting Jared too.

Breathless, Misha finally caught up and pushed Jensen’s arm down. “Jensen, stop! He’s trying to save his life.” 

Jensen’s panic-filled vision cleared as he realized Chris was performing CPR. Jared wasn’t responding. Running up to them and dropping to his knees, he asked, “What can I do?”

“Tilt his head back. Pinch his nostrils closed and support his chin. Take a normal breath, put your mouth over his and blow until you see his chest rise. Stop, wait until his chest falls, then do it again.” Jensen did as he was told.

He didn’t know how long they worked on him but it felt like the longest, most painful period of his life. He felt as unable to breathe as Jared, consumed with rage and guilt and grief.

Chris looked up at him and Jensen could see the defeat.

“No. No fucking way are we stopping.” It was an entreaty as much as a command.

Jared expelled his borrowed breath and just as Jensen bent to breathe into his mouth again, Jared coughed up water and abruptly sat up. He coughed again, then turned to his side and begin throwing up more water, blood and bile.

Jensen fell back on his heels as he struggled to get oxygen into his own lungs.

More shots rang out and Chris stood and grabbed his discarded riffle. “I don't know who those two were.” He tipped his chin in the direction of the water, where two bodies floated back and forth in the shallow surf. “What the hell is going on and where's Chad?” 

“Maybe raiders. Maybe Pellegrino. He said Gray told him Carlos and Matt are in on it,” Misha replied.

A brief flash of outrage clouded Chris’ features but he quickly shook it off. “You armed,” he asked.

“Yes. Watch your back. We don’t know how many of them there are.”

Chris nodded and ran off. Before he hit the treeline, he shouted, “Shoot anyone who isn’t me or Chad.” Misha snorted.

Jensen had barely registered the exchange, too focused on Jared's gulping breaths to think of anything beyond ensuring he was alive.

“Jared,” he said softly. “Are you alright?” It was an absurd question but he was at a loss for words.

Jared got to his knees and leaned back on his heels. His breathing slowed but he didn't seem aware of anything else. He dropped his chin to his chest. Jensen took the opportunity to gently pat his back.

“Hey, you ok?,” he asked again.

Jared lifted his head but didn't look at him. Instead he looked to the water and gasped. “Oh my God oh my God.” He fell back on his hands and began scrambling backwards. Jensen turned to see what had frightened him and saw the nearly headless bodies floating in a thick pool of blood. Head wounds always bled more, but it would take a shot at point blank range to cause that kind of damage. It was a disturbing sight. 

Jensen reached for Jared, trying to stop him from hurting himself in his dash to get away. He grabbed his foot and Jared screamed and kicked out, hitting Jensen in the chin. It stunned them both and Jared stopped trying to crawl away. He didn't take his eyes off the ocean. 

Misha said, “Give him a minute.”

Jensen scooted over and sat next to him, telegraphing his moves as he gently wrapped an arm around him. Jared was trembling, soaked to the bone, and caked in sand. It clicked for Jensen then, what happened. _They tried to drown him._

Fury welled up inside and he had to choke it down. He couldn't let his own emotions startle Jared further.

Misha gave them a few minutes, then whispered, “ Let's get him inside.”

“Yeah, ok.” They stood and slowly coaxed Jared to his feet. They each took an arm, wrapped theirs around his waist, and took small steps back to the house. Jared remained pliant and speechless.

Once they made it back inside, Jensen headed toward the bathroom.

“Jen, we need to get to the panic room.”

“He needs to get cleaned up. I'm not locking him in windowless room while he's covered in blood.”

Jared winced and Jensen wanted to punch himself in the face.

He could tell Misha wanted to argue but there was no dissuading him. Instead he helped Jensen guide the too docile Jared to the master bath.

Once inside, Misha turned on the shower. Jared immediately reached for Jensen, fisting his shirt and pulling him close. Jensen wrapped his arms around him and tried to soothe him with nonsense sounds.

When Jared didn't respond, Jensen pulled back to undress him.

Jared tightened his fist, wrapped one arm around him,and buried his face in Jensen's shoulder. 

“We need to undress so we can get in the shower.”

Jared tensed, determined not to let go.

“Ok, ok,” Jensen said, guiding them both into the walk-in shower fully clothed. Jared didn't seem to notice or care but Jensen grimaced as water soaked his clothes and shoes.

Jensen reached over Jared's shoulder and unhooked the handheld shower head. He made sure not to let go as he washed away as much of the sand and blood as he could. The warm water seem to soothe Jared as he loosened his grip.

“Jared. Sweetheart. Look at me.”

Jared lifted his head but his eyes were glassy and his gaze far away.

“Let me get you out of the wet clothes,” Jensen coaxed. “Then I'll wash your hair. How does that sound?”

Jared didn't respond but he didn't stop Jensen from pulling away and slowly undressing them both. He tossed their ruined clothes on the floor just outside the stall, and grabbed some soap so he could more thoroughly clean Jared up.

Misha spoke from the door, “What can I do to help?”

He'd forgotten that he was there, forgotten that the danger hadn't passed.

“Would you throw those out,” he tipped his chin at the wet pile, “and bring us some dry clothes.”

“Of course.”

He returned his attention to Jared and the task of cleaning him. He washed his body, his hair, and rinsed him off. Jared was unresponsive. “Sweetheart, can you look at me.” He was met with the same vacant stare.

“He’s in shock,” Misha said, once again standing by the door, this time with an armful of sweats and t-shirts.

Jensen almost snapped that he already knew Jared was in shock but he knew he would just be responding to the stress. This wasn't Misha’s fault. It was his.

“We need to get him lying down. Elevate his feet. Keep him warm,” Misha said.

“I thought you were determined to get us in the panic room?”

“You're right. Jared doesn't deserve being locked in a room. I trust Chris and Chad to handle things.”

Jensen silently agreed and guided Jared out of the shower. He took the proffered towel from Misha with a grateful smile.

“Let's get you dried off and into something warm,” he said, hoping that would encourage him to speak. It didn’t work. He toweled them both off and dressed Jared, who barely seemed aware of where he was. He guided him to the bedroom, where Misha was standing next to the bed pulling the covers down.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.

They both helped Jared into the bed and covered him up. When Jensen turned to dress himself, Jared's hand whipped out and grabbed his wrist.

“Stay.” He patted the bed next to him. It was the clearest he sounded since Jensen first found him on the beach.

“Yeah, ok. Of course.”

Ignoring his own nudity, Jensen climbed on the bed and pulled Jared into his arms. He ran his fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered. 

Jared didn't respond but gradually his trembling ceased and his breathing evened out. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep.

They stayed like that until Misha came back.

“Chad just radioed. He gave the all clear.”

“Are they ok?”

“He said Chris was shot and stabbed but that it wasn't too bad. Gray is dead.”

“And the other men? Carlos? Matt?”

“Dead.”

Jensen sighed and pulled Jared closer. He now knew who on the island betrayed him but he couldn't help the nagging feeling that there was something huge he was missing. Danger was as present as ever, and it was closing in.

The one thing he knew for sure was that this all had to end. He was taking Jared home. Setting him free. He watched Jared sleep, cherishing the last few moments he would have with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. This chapter.
> 
> You know when you there's a word on the tip of your tongue and you can't quite remember what it is. This is about 2500 words of that feeling.
> 
> Thanks for hanging in there. Only 5 more chapters to go after this.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! Finally, right?
> 
> I'm sorry I haven't updated. The story is all written in my head, I just can't seem to write it down.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's waited patiently for a new chapter. Hopefully, now that I've finished this one my muse won't be such a stingy bitch.

The day was unforgivably beautiful. Even without a view of the water, Jared could imagine the sounds and scents of the ocean, feel the warmth of the sun as beams of light cut across the bedroom. With the metallic taste of blood at the back of his throat, his poisoned senses kept replaying his near drowning over and over. He felt the phantom pressure of hands holding him down, felt the burn in his oxygen-starved lungs, felt the sensation of sinking, of falling, and his panic as he surrendered to the darkness. After almost dying, the sunshine mocked him. He wanted blistering rain and thunder, 200 mph winds that tore trees out by the root, shattered windows and ripped off rooftops. He felt cheated out of the cataclysmic storm that mirrored the devastation rending his life in two. He wanted the earth to cry and scream and lash out, he wanted the earth to devour and kill. He wanted the earth to do what he could not.

He settled for watching Jensen sleep.

Jensen was handsome, as always, yet somehow more so than when he was awake. His face lacked the ever-present stress and suspicion, his brow smooth and untroubled. Time in the sun brought out the freckles on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, tinged slightly pink with sunburn. His tan arms and bowed legs were a stark contrast to the white sheets in which they were tangled. Jared wanted to curl up around him and listen to him breathe. He didn’t know why he hesitated; he knew his touch would be welcomed. Maybe touching Jensen would help calm him, or maybe it would make him enraged. Jensen has always been a catalyst for strong, often conflicting, emotions.

 _I want this. I need this,_ he thought, then took a fortifying breath and carded his fingers through Jensen's soft hair. It was still damp from their shower and smelled faintly of coconut and mango. How island appropriate. Jared closed his eyes and focused on the sensation. His breathing and racing heartbeat slowed to bearable levels. Odd that out of all people, after everything, Jensen would be the one who made him feel safe. It seemed foolish to feel shy being the one to do the touching now. 

Jared barely remembered what happened after Jensen revived him. He was led back to the house in a daze, sets of arms holding him up and practically dragging him inside. He had a vague mental picture of Jensen peeling off his damp clothes and guiding him into the shower. Jensen's hands were gentle and slow on his skin, the warm water a stark contrast to the cold ocean that sent shivers throughout his body. He relied on Jensen’s strength to stand and was grateful Jensen kept the self-recriminations that were sure to come to himself. This Jensen was a different man than the one who tied him to a bed and told him he could do anything he wanted.

It all felt surreal, Jensen’s actions included. He was such an enigma: cold and ruthless but generous, abrasive but loyal, cruel but also kind, capable of giving love but wary of receiving it. Jared’s increasing attraction complicated things and nothing in his life prepared him for the depth of feeling Jensen inspired.

Giving into temptation, he bent down and kissed Jensen’s soft lips. Jensen stirred briefly but quickly settled back down. It was better this way. He had no idea what he’d say when he woke.

He knew what he didn’t want to say. _I hate you. I love you. Let me go. Never leave me._ He didn’t trust himself to speak. What he felt went beyond anger. Every thought and emotion he had was suspect, entirely informed by a situation beyond his control. Was this gut-churning anxiety resignation? This ill-conceived affection acceptance? A perversion of love? He missed California, missed his grandmother, missed the corner coffee shop with its little round tables in the back and the one rickety chair that always seemed to be the only one left. Baristas would joke that he looked like he was sitting in a kid’s chair and add whipped cream with bright colored sprinkles to everything he ordered to complete the picture. He missed so many things, yet he didn’t know if he could return to that life without Jensen.

Standing slowly so as not to wake him, he got out of bed, picked up his robe and headed to the bathroom. It would be his third shower in less than four hours, and he had brushed his teeth half a dozen times. His skin felt dry and his gums hurt, but no matter how long he stood beneath the water, he didn’t feel clean. Dropping his towel, he stood in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. Eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, he looked worn and tired, utterly exhausted. A purple bruise blossoming on his chest from the CPR matched the ones on his wrists. He turned away, not wanting to see the evidence of what had happened, what his life had become. He stepped into the ridiculously luxurious shower (why would anyone need that many showerheads), and set the water temperature as hot as he could stand it. Bowing his head beneath the spray, he closed his eyes and gave in to the urge to cry.

He wasn't a fool. He knew exactly why he felt the way he did, why he ached for Jensen beyond his childhood crush. But facing that filled him with fear and self-doubt. For all his education, knowledge wasn’t a way out of what he was going through. He once believed simply understanding something gave him the will to overcome it. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

the events of a bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden in 1973. Jan-Erik Olsson and Clark Olofsson held four employees in a bank vault for six days, torturing them with nooses and dynamite. When the hostages were released they all refused to testify and even raised money for their captors’ defense. It baffled local law enforcement. Berjerot concluded their reactions were the result of a type of brainwashing wherein the victim develops feelings of affection and empathy toward their captor. The inherent intimacy of the experience and struggle to survive altered their perception, leaving them convinced the traumas they suffered were balanced out by what they saw as mercy. Yes, they were tortured but their captors could have killed them.

Was he being brainwashed?

Although the terminology was new, many studies support the theory that captor bonding is an evolutionary survival technique millions of years old, seen in reptiles and mammals, and particularly primates. If you want to survive, you adapt. If you don’t, you die. How this translates into feelings of fondness, even love, is less clear, although the phenomena is not dissimilar to what victims of domestic violence or child abuse experience. The fear of the unknown becomes more frightening than the pain endured.

_He sucked me off but stopped when I asked him not to fuck me._

_He risked his freedom by giving me a computer and phone._

_He’s remorseful and hasn't touched me without my consent since he promised he wouldn't._

_His own life is at risk yet he’s alienating his friends to defend me._

And almost bitterly, Jared thought, _He loves me._

__

__

With respect to the law, it posed an interesting question: how do you prosecute a crime when the victim refuses to testify and, in fact, defends the perpetrator? Convictions without victim testimony are difficult to obtain. As future lawyers, Professor Ferris challenged he and his classmates to come up with an argument that would get a conviction without retraumatizing the victim. The result was a heated debate over beers and pizza in his cramped apartment, with three out of five of his classmates arguing that a strong case could be made by directly addressing the victims mental fitness. Essentially, portraying the victim as too broken to know what’s best for them because of the defendant. Needless to say, those three failed the assignment. And though Jared wasn’t among them (he argued that the charges of abduction and false imprisonment would be easier to prosecute), he too believed the victims were too damaged to be of use during a trial. That kind of response to trauma was simply beyond his comprehension.

Now, he understood. He was completely in love with the man who kidnapped him, and he knew he would never tell a soul what Jensen had done. He wished he could appreciate the irony. 

Jared shook his head in disgust and wiped tears away with a soapy hand, immediately regretting it when he got soap in his eyes. He had to turn the temperature down before he could wash it out. It was a good indicator of where his mood was at that he cursed Jensen for it. His emotions were all over the place and apparently he couldn’t shower without hurting himself.

It wasn’t like it was all Jensen’s fault, he tried to reason to himself. Jared was also a victim of Misha’s manipulation, though Misha was more direct. Misha played on his sympathies with stories of Jensen’s troubled childhood, used Jared's compassionate nature against him. More than that, the constant tension between Jensen and his friends put Jared in a position where he had to take sides. He was angry with Misha for betraying Jensen, angry with Chris and Chad for challenging Jensen’s authority. Threats from Pellegrino added to the forces pushing them together. He had no choice but to give Jensen his allegiance, regardless of the fact that it was Jensen who put him in danger in this first place. 

The world could change so much in a single clarifying instance. He nearly died and it somehow brought him closer to Jensen. He wouldn't run if he could. For better or worse, their fates were bound.

The water was cooling and he quickly rinsed off before it went completely cold. The abrasions on his palms from being shoved to the sand stung and the bruises from hands and fists holding him down were tender and sore. His entire body ached and he was so tired he felt dizzy.

It’s why he didn’t hear Jensen open the bathroom door.

“Are you okay,” Jensen asked.

Jared startled at the sound. “Dammit, Jensen. Don’t you know how to knock?”

“Sorry. I thought you heard me calling you. You’ve been in here a while and I got worried.”

“Worried I drowned?”

Jensen’s piteous silence was almost enough to make Jared apologize for making such a joke. 

He turned off the shower and stepped out. Jensen was ready with a clean towel and Jared took it and began drying off, no longer concerned about modesty. Jensen, however, averted his eyes. The uncomfortable silence continued and Jared had the urge smash the mirror. “I’m okay,” he offered instead, wanting to soothe them both. “I can’t seem to get clean or close my eyes long enough to sleep, but I’m okay. They didn’t break me.”

Jensen grimaced and gave a brief nod, then pointed to a stack of clothing Jared hadn’t noticed. “I wasn’t sure if you brought anything to change into.”

As he reached for the shirt on top of the pile, Jensen stepped back to avoid touching him. Jared stifled a sigh and quickly put the shirt and boxers on. He skipped the pants. It wasn’t like they had somewhere to be and it felt like a no-pants kind of day. He hung his towel up, noticing Jensen had removed the ones he used before. Apropos of nothing, he wanted to ask who did the laundry. Misha, probably. He must feel like he wasted his money on a law degree now that he was Jensen’s glorified personal assistant, willing and able to handle anything, including kidnap victims.

Jensen again stepped back as Jared left the bathroom. His newfound pacificity made Jared’s anger return to a boil, and simmering just beneath the surface was the fear that he was somehow to blame.

Feeling like a heavy weight was pushing him down, he sat on the bed and put his face in his hands. “I should have listened,” he whispered.

Jensen sat down next to him, careful to keep his distance. “What do you mean,” Jensen gently asked.

He swallowed around his sore throat. How much had he actually spoken since he coughed up part of the ocean? “You warned me, told me to stay inside, stay with you, and I didn’t listen. I should have listened,” Jared choked out. 

“What are you talking about?”

Now that he had breathed life into them, he couldn’t help but give his thoughts voice. “I-I didn’t believe you. Not really. I mean, I knew something could happen but I thought I was safe with you, that nothing would happen to me here. You told your friends you’d kill for me. I thought that meant… I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Jensen made a pained sound, wrapped an arm around Jared's waist and kissed the top of his head. “Please, don’t say that. You thought you were safe because I promised to keep you safe. I failed. I’m the one who put you in danger. If I’d left you alone you’d be safe in Palo Alto sharing breakfast with Jess. Don’t think for one second this is on you.”

Jared snorted. Jess. How many lifetimes ago was that? “If it wasn’t Henry, it would have been someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jess was pushing me to marry her. If you didn’t...do what you did, we could have been married, possibly had a child, before I discovered what kind of woman she is. You did me a favor.”

“That doesn't change the fact that I'm an asshole, or that you've done nothing wrong.”

Jensen let go of Jared, stood and walked to the couch. Seemingly lost for what else to say, and unable to look Jared in the eye, he kept his gaze on the door. Was he waiting for something or someone? Jared could feel the tension coiled tight in his posture. Although he knew it wasn’t, he had to ask, “So is it over?”

Jensen did look at him then and his expression sent a shiver a fear through him. “The men who tried to drown you are dead, as are the people who snuck them onto the island. I still have Pellegrino to deal with but your part in all this is over. I’m taking you home tomorrow. In 24 hours you'll be free of this place, free of me.”

It took Jared a minute to figure out what he meant. That _bastard._ He was going to dump him off in Palo Alto, probably with a few bodyguards, and never look back. Jared tried not to scream. He’d be damned if he let that happen. After everything, Jensen was his. He’d fight dirty if he had to.

Stifling a curse, he said with false cheer, “Yeah, ok, that's good. Home. I’d like to visit my grandma right away. She's not doing so great. I'll need to ease her into the idea of us being together. And I know you’re primarily in New York but maybe you could get a place in California so I could spend time with her on breaks?” He forced a hopeful look and pressed on before Jensen could respond. “I don’t mind traveling back and forth.” Then, as an affected afterthought, “I should also see about transferring to NYU or something.”

Jensen’s dopey, confused expression was comical, and if Jared were in a more forgiving mood he’d take pity on him. It took quite a bit of restraint not to laugh. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Jensen finally said. He looked to the door again and that’s when he heard Chris say something to Misha about not needing stitches. So they must not be the ones trying to kill them. Surprising but good, he supposed. One crisis at a time.

Sinking his claws in deeper, Jared asked, “Do you not want to be with me? I would hope a little thing like living together wouldn’t be too much ask.”

Jensen actually winced. He seemed to be having a difficult time swallowing. “No, of course not.” Jared raised an eyebrow. “I mean yes. I want to be with you. It’s all I want. I just didn't think… After everything why would you even want that?”

Good question.

Before Jared could respond, Jensen spoke again, this time with more force. “You nearly _died_ because of me. You should get as far away from me as possible. Don’t blame yourself and don’t forgive me.”

Jared stood and walked over to join Jensen on the couch. Jensen eyed him warily but didn’t try to pull away when he sat next to him and took Jensen’s hand in his. He laced their fingers together. “That’s not really your choice to make,” he said softly. “You said you wanted to give me my freedom.”

“I did. I _do._ ”

“Then allow me the freedom to know my own mind.”

Jensen sighed and tightened his grip where their hands were clasped before letting go. “I just think you'll feel differently once you get home.”

Before he could turn away and completely shut down, Jared took Jensen’s face in his hands and leaned in close, his mouth a whisper from his lips. “I want you,” he said. “I don’t care if that makes me crazy. We'll figure out the rest when we get home.” He closed the distance and covered Jensen's mouth with his own. Jensen hesitated for long enough that Jared questioned if maybe he read the whole situation wrong, then Jensen's tight control snapped and he was kissing back, licking into Jared's mouth and swallowing Jared's surprised moan.

“Say it again,” Jensen commanded.

“I want you, Jensen,” he breathed, kissing his way up Jensen's neck and whispering in his ear, “I want you to take me to bed, finger me open and fuck me.”

Jensen was moving before Jared stopped speaking, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the bed. He pushed Jared down and crawled on top of him, kissing whatever he could reach while he worked to remove their clothing.

Jared gasped and laughed. “Slow down, Jensen. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I've wanted you for too long to go slow. We can go slow the second round.”

They stopped only long enough to take each other's shirts off, then went back to kissing and touching as if they only had a short time to fill up a lifetime's worth.

“You're fucking gorgeous,” Jensen said as he pulled back and examined Jared's body. He didn’t take his eyes off of him as he leaned over and pulled a bottle of lube out the nightstand.

Jared read the label and raised an eyebrow. “Coffee flavored?” 

Jensen gave a wicked sideways grin and winked. “For later when I eat you out.”

Jared flushed hot and cold, his injuries forgotten as he pulled Jensen back down on top of him. They made themselves known again when Jensen moved to take his boxers off and put some of his weight on Jared's arm. Jared sucked in a pained breath and stifled a cry. Jensen heard it anyway. He made to move away but Jared stopped him. “It's ok. I'm ok. Just a little tender. Maybe we can go slow this time too?”

Jensen seemed to hesitate, examining Jared's expression and ghosting his fingers over various bruises before he nodded and continued. “Let me know if I'm hurting you and I'll stop. We can pick this up another time.”

“I'm good. I want this,” he replied, lifting his hips up so Jensen could pull off his boxers. “I know you won't hurt me.”

Jensen warmed up some lube in his palm before taking Jared into his mouth and circling one slick finger around his hole. He sucked slowly as he worked one, then two fingers in. Jared's body was a mess of mixed signals, pain and pleasure blurring the edges of his vision. Jensen was careful yet relentless, brushing Jared's prostate as he tightened his lips. The combined sensations made him feel dizzy for a whole different reason.

“Wait, stop,” Jared said. “I don't want to come like this.”

His cock slipping from between Jensen's lips was sexy and obscene enough to make him come just from the sight. 

“However you want it,” Jensen said, his lips shiny and swollen.

“Fuck me, please,” Jared begged. 

Jensen reached for a condom but Jared stilled his hand. “No,” he said. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

Jensen groaned and pinched the base of his cock to stop coming then and there. “I don't,” he said as he struggled to swallow. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“I'm clean,” Jared replied. “After Jess...I got tested for everything. Even TB.”

Jensen snorted but didn't look convinced. “I would like nothing more than to fuck you bare but I think we should wait until I can get tested as well. For both our sakes. I'm not worried but…”

Jared interrupted him, “No, you're right. I know we should wait...I just really like the idea of your come dripping out of me.”

Jensen groaned again and dropped his forehead on Jared's chest. “You're trying to kill me, aren't you? This is some kind of revenge for me being an asshole.”

Jared laughed. “You have been a grade A jerk but I'll use my hands when I try to kill you.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Jensen said with a smile, then ripped open the condom and rolled it on.

It had been a long time since Jared had sex with a man but he was certain it had never felt as good as it did when Jensen slowly pushed inside.

“Fuck,” Jensen moaned. “So fucking good, sweetheart. So tight and wet.”

Jensen kept his strokes long and deep, hard and powerful, yet careful of Jared's injuries. He moved like a man born to it, designed solely for the purpose of ringing every ounce of pleasure out of their lover. 

They moved in synch, Jensen pushing in, Jared pushing up. In-between kisses, they whispered encouragement and praise. It was a far removed from the spectacle they made when they faked it for the benefit of Jensen's men.

“I love you,” Jensen whispered, kissing along Jared's jawline to his ear. “I love you so much.”

Jared didn't respond. Although he knew he loved Jensen, saying it felt like he was giving something up rather than offering something over. Jensen was getting he everything wanted. What had Willy Wonka said about the man who gets everything he ever wanted?

He lives happily ever after.

Was that a realistic desire for a captor and his captive? His current world was so completely removed from what he once believed was true. Would it all snap back into place once he was home and able to gain perspective? Would he stop loving Jensen or come to believe he never loved him at all? He didn't know and didn't want to. He wanted Jensen and this moment, and to hell with whatever came next.

“I know,” he said instead. _I love you, too,_ he whispered in his heart.

He came before Jensen, shuddering and gasping as he struggled for breath. Jensen was silent when he followed shortly after, quiet when he pulled out and got up to dispose of the condom. Jared watched him go and wondered if he had made a mistake by not saying it in return.

Jensen came back with a warm washcloth and cleaned them both up. He walked to the window and closed the heavy drapes, plunging the once bright room into darkness. The quiet between them felt heavier somehow but he was at a loss as to how to change it.

Jensen returned to the bed, pulled down the covers and ushered Jared beneath them. He was too hot for blankets but he understood that Jensen felt as exposed as he did. When Jensen joined him, he pulled Jared close. He kissed Jared's hair when he rested his head on Jensen's chest.

“I didn't hurt you, did I,” Jensen asked.

“No. I feel good.”

More of that interminable silence followed.

When Jensen finally spoke, it felt too loud in the dark room. “If you want,” he began, then paused long enough Jared thought he might be hoping Jared would fill in the blanks. He took a deep breath and started again. “I’d love to get a place in California with you and have you live with me in New York. Just tell me what, where and when and it's yours. I'll give you anything, Jared. I'll give you the world if you'll let me.”

Jared let that sink in for a while, aware his lack of immediate response was making Jensen anxious. Here was everything he could ever want for the taking; love, security, and happiness. He would be able to take care of his grandma, focus on the kind of law that helped people instead of making money, and share a life with someone who’d kill for him. It was a heady thought. Still, he hesitated.

“Let's start with my freedom and go from there,” he said, certain that any future with Jensen would only begin once they were off the island.

“We'll leave first thing tomorrow,” Jensen replied. 

“Good,” Jared replied and closed his eyes and finally fell asleep.


	30. Chapter 30

Jensen checked the clip of the Glock Chris had given him, making sure the magazine was fully loaded. Satisfied, he tucked the gun into his shoulder holster and slipped an extra clip into his pocket. Not knowing what awaited them in New York, they were loading for bear. 

When he brought Jared coffee and kissed him awake, he promised they’d be ready to leave within an hour. Although he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day worshipping Jared's body, it would have to wait. Right now he needed answers.

“I want to know how they got onto my island,” he said to the room at large.

Chris, who was leaning over the kitchen table letting Misha rebandage the knife wound on his shoulder, didn’t look up when he spoke. “All I know is Carlos and Matt picked them up when they took the boat to get supplies. I didn’t get a chance to interrogate them because Chad decided to play my knight in shining armor and shoot them in the head.”

Chad paused disassembling his rifle and glared. “I was saving your life, asshole.”

“I’ve been shot before. This ain't nothing,” Chris said dismissively. 

Chad snorted. “I was a little more focused on the knife in your back.” 

The wound was a painful looking mass of purple and red puckered skin. Chris would need stitches. 

“Eh, it looks worse than it is,” Chris replied and shrugged, wincing as the motion caused him pain.

Chad raised an amused eyebrow. 

“Which one of us has combat medical training? That’s right. Me. So shut it,” Chris mumbled before flipping him off.

“That’s enough!” Jensen shouted. “Jared almost died. _We_ almost died. Pellegrino will try again and I’d rather we come at him with something more than our dicks in our hands.”

Chad and Chris’ both sobered immediately.

Satisfied that he had their attention, he asked Chris, “Why did your ‘loyal’ employees try to kill us? You said they could be trusted.”

Chris sighed, sounding defeated. “I think Pellegrino went after their families. We looked through calls and text messages on their phones, and there were a lot of calls back and forth to New York numbers and panicked, unanswered text messages to their wives and kids. ”

Dread settled in Jensen’s chest, squeezing until he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “That’s why they went after Jared first. To make me watch him die.”

“I think so,” Chris said sadly. “Once Pellegrino figures out his guys failed, he’s gonna go looking for a backup plan. That could be anyone we know. I called my brother and had him pack a bag and wait it out in some no-tell motel out of state.”

Jensen knew everyone Misha cared about was in the room but that didn't mean he had no other pressure points.

Misha said, “I contacted my firm. They’ve dealt with more than one angry ex-con so they know how to take precautions. My housekeeper hasn’t seen anyone new in the neighborhood but found a padded envelope with no return address on the porch a few weeks ago. She thought a courier from another firm left it - it happens - so she didn’t say anything. I told her to stick it in the safe and mention it to no one. She too is leaving the state for the foreseeable future.”

“Did she check its contents,” Jensen asked.

“No but said it felt like a set of keys and maybe a cell phone.”

“Think that’s the information Henry Ross discovered? What they were looking for in my apartment?”

“The thought had crossed my mind. The timing fits,” Misha replied.

“Chad,” Jensen asked, drawing his attention away from his weapon. “Anyone you're concerned about and haven’t heard from?”

Chad's eyes flashed to Chris but he shook his head. Huh. An assassin with a crush. If Jensen wasn't so focused on getting answers he would have teased Chad about his embarrassed blush.

“What about Alona? Has anyone been in contact with her?”

Chris turned his head and glared at Chad. “Don't say it.”

“Chris, you know she…” Chad began before Chris angrily interrupted. 

“No. We’re not having this conversation again. I know her. You don’t.”

Curious and a little annoyed, Jensen asked, “You two want to share with the class?” He couldn't read their silent exchange but Chad seemed to concede.

Chad gave one long final look at Chris before shaking his head. “It's nothing to worry about. I called her and she’s fine.”

Jensen knew there was more to the story but let it go for now. “That’s good. I still want to put a few bodyguards on her.”

“Already on it,” Chris said. “We have a brief window of opportunity to get out in front of whatever Pellegrino might have planned next. I sent a text message from one of the dead guys’ phones saying the deed was done but kept it vague. They killed our pilot, then went directly for Jared, so who the hell knows what their orders were. It bought us a day or two at most.”

Pleased with his foresight, Jensen smiled. “Anything else useful on their phones? Messages from Pellegrino that might explain why the hell he has such a hard-on for me?”

Chris straightened up, his wound freshly bandaged and shrugged into a ghastly Hawaiian print shirt. He spoke as he did up the buttons. “Nothing but a date and time for meeting the boat. The three mob guys used burner phones. Carlos and Matt were using their personal phones. Whatever contact they had with Pellegrino began after they arrived on the island because they did nothing to hide what they were up to.” He picked up a cell phone from the table, one of many, and handed it to Jensen. “This is the only working burner. The other two were damaged in the water.”

Meaning they belonged to the men who tried to drown Jared. Jensen wished he had been the one to kill them.

He turned the phone on and scrolled through the call log. What he found matched what they were reporting, with the exception of one number Jensen vaguely recognized. It took him a minute to figure it out.

“Well, shit.” He ran to his office and began fumbling through the stack of messages Alona had given him. He found what he was looking for halfway through.

The number belonged to Alois Correa. It was an outgoing call, which told him absolutely nothing, but it lasted five minutes.

Jensen went back to the kitchen. He picked Matt and Carlos’s phones and checked the call logs for the same number. Nothing. 

“What’s going on, Jensen,” Misha asked. “You look spooked.”

Jensen looked at the phone again, hoping it would provide answers. “I think I’ve been played.”

Misha reached out and grabbed the piece of paper. “Whose number is this?”

“Alois Correa.”

“The chemist?”

“One and the same.”

“And one of Pellegrino’s guy called him?”

“Yes. Three days ago.” Jensen sat down in a chair and put his head back. The ceiling fan felt good on his overheated skin. “He’s one of the few people who know where this island is. When I was in New York, Alona said he asked me to call. I did and he said I had a mole.”

Chris paused in packing up the first aid kit and huffed a laugh. “Well, he ain't exactly wrong.”

Finished reassembling his rifle, Chad reached for another Glock and began taking it apart. The room was beginning to smell like gun oil and combined with the whirling blades of the fan, made Jensen slightly dizzy.

“What exactly did Alois tell you,” Chad asked.

“Pellegrino wanted to buy drugs to sell in the US. His guys threatened my life and Alois’ boss cut off their fingers. Or so he said.”

Chad whistled low. “I heard his boss can get anyone to talk in three questions. First answer he doesn’t like, he cuts off the fingers. Second, he takes the hand. Third, the whole arm.”

“What happens if he doesn’t like the first three answers,” Misha asked.

“He takes their head. I guess he got whatever he wanted the first round.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chris swore. “I don’t know why you let yourself get tangled up in that mess, Jensen.”

Jensen raised an incredulous eyebrow and turned his gaze on Chad, who just winked and grinned. Alois Correa wasn’t the only killer he knew. He answered anyway.

“We’re friends, not colleagues,” he replied. “Our interests don’t conflict. And Alois wouldn’t get in bed with Pellegrino if his boss didn’t approve. He’s manufacturing, not distribution. That kind of deal is above his pay grade. Cutting off fingers isn’t a sign of forming lasting business ties.”

“Doesn’t mean it went down that way,” Chris pointed out.

“He also said someone close to you was trying to kill you,” Chad asked.

Jensen gave a short, curt nod. “That’s what he said.”

It took less than a minute for them to connect the dots.

“Fuck,” Chris said and tossed the first aid kit into his opened rucksack with a little too much force. “That’s why you’ve had my ex-girlfriend going through our bank records.”

It was no time to mince words. “Yes.”

Chad chuckled. “You honestly think I’d deposit money from a hit in a bank account tied to my name? Or an account someone as inept as _Alona_ could find?”

“No, I don’t,” Jensen conceded, taking note of the animosity in Chad's tone toward Alona that he'd heard only recently. “But what would you have done?”

It was a testament to how much things had changed overnight that he didn't shudder when Chad looked him straight in the eye and calmly said, “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“I am aware of that. But a man in my position can’t be too careful.” He turned to Misha who looked ready to slug him. “Seriously, if you were me, what would you have done? Ignore it and hope for the best?”

“Not question the loyalty of my closest friends, for one thing. Especially when the tip comes from a goddamn drug dealer,” Misha barked. “I put up with a lot of shit from you, Jensen, much of it in the last few months, but questioning my loyalty is my fucking limit.”

Chris remained silent as he set aside his packing, sat down next to Chad, and began loading a magazine with bullets Chad had lined up in neat rows. His hands were swift and efficient, the moves long practiced. It reinforced the idea that Chris was every much as dangerous as Chad.

Jensen took a deep breath and tried to come up with something to say that wouldn't get him punched or shot.

It was Chad who let him off the hook. “We get it, alright.” Misha glared. “I mean _I_ get it. You got a tip and had to act on it. I think any one of us would have done the same.”

“Still makes you a dick,” Chris grumbled but followed it up with a smile.

“So all’s forgiven? He trusts Alona enough to go prying into our lives and you’re fine with it? This is bullshit,” Misha hissed, grabbed his bags and stomped out of the room. Jensen called out to him but he refused to stop, which was probably for the best. He had no idea what he wanted to say. _Sorry I accused you of selling me out to a mobster?_ After 20 years of friendship, any apology would feel hollow.

What a mess. He stumbled over what to say in the silence that followed Misha's departure. “Look, I...” he said before Chris cut him off.

“Forget it, ok. The threat was obviously real or I wouldn’t have spent the last two days dumping the bodies of my friends in the ocean. You had every right to question our loyalty.”

“Maybe next time you should spend more time examining the source,” Chad chided.

“That's fair,” Jensen agreed.

Chris looked over his shoulder at the door, then slipped his hand in his pocket. He produced a small bottle of pills and a syringe full of liquid. “There's something we should discuss before Jared joins us.”

“What are those,” Jensen asked warily.

“Sedatives. One that will keep him calm, the other to knock him out if need be.”

Jensen couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You think I'm going to drug Jared? After everything?”

“He almost died two days ago, Jensen, and he’s not too keen on sea travel at the moment. There's no harm in having the option of calming him down if he freaks out.”

Since they killed Gray, the only licensed pilot among them, they were going to have to take the boat and that meant a long, unpleasant journey. Jared had paled when Jensen told him they had no other way of getting to Puerto Rico. He was, not surprisingly, unenthusiastic about going near the ocean again. Still, that didn’t mean they were going to drug him. He said as much to Chris.

“I’m not saying we do it against his will. I think Jared should have the option is all.”

“Have the option for what,” Jared asked, suddenly appearing at the door. He looked clean and well-rested. He was wearing a pair of blue linen shorts, a white short sleeved oxford, and canvas boat shoes. He looked adorable, but Jensen would be having a word with Genevieve about dressing his boyfriend like a trust fund brat.

Chris held out the bottle. “To make an unpleasant trip a little easier. It’s a mild sedative for anxiety. The worst it will do is make you sleepy.”

Jared examined the bottle, reading the label, then looking inside to see if the contents matched the description. “Xanax?”

“Yes,” Chris confirmed. “It's fast acting with a short half-life. Not recommended for long-term use but effective in treating the occasional panic attack.”

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Jared mused.

“I’ve known a vet or two with PTSD.”

Chris never spoke about the war, so it was shocking to hear him share any of it with Jared, whom he had shown nothing but contempt.

Jared pocketed the bottle. “Thanks.”

Chris offered a smile that was somewhere between a smirk and a grimace.

Before Jared had a chance to see it, Chad picked up the syringe and tucked it into his pocket. Jensen would be asking him later what was in it.

His sleight of hand unseen, Chad picked up the Glock he’d just cleaned and handed it to Jared, “Here. Take this. Something else that might help you feel safe. Don't shoot your eye out. Or me.”

Jared examined the gun nervously, then tucked it into the hip holster Chad held out and clipped it to the belt on his shorts. His look changed from trust fund brat to Floridian drug trafficker. All he needed was a cigar and Panama hat.

“How soon do we leave,” Jared asked.

“We should be ready to go as soon as Chad is done here,” Jensen answered and motioned to the gun paraphernalia on the table.

“Everything is packed and on the boat. It’ll take Chris and me 10 minutes to clean up and get everything locked up, so we’ll meet you two there. I’m assuming that’s where Misha stormed off to,” Chad said.

Jensen took Jared's hand in his, laced their fingers together, and led him out to the boat.

They were an hour into their journey before Jared gave in and took the sedative. Once aboard he refused to leave the cabin and needed motion sickness medication when the rocking of the boat became too much. His suffering made Jensen feel worse than he already did, but just as Chris said, Jared was asleep within 10 minutes and hadn’t woken by the time the ship docked in San Juan.

Jensen decided to let him sleep. There were things to be done before they could leave for the airport. An extra hour or so wouldn’t lengthen their stay in Puerto Rico. He picked up the Glock Chad had given Jared, tempted to take the clip out. He wanted him to have the comfort of knowing he could defend himself but also didn’t want to get shot if he woke in a panic. He decided against it. False security was exactly that: false. He left the gun on the bedside table and kissed Jared’s forehead before he walked out of the room.

He stepped out onto the deck and shielded his eyes from the bright sun. It was a beautiful day and he wanted to share it with the man he loved. But maybe not on an island… Perhaps New England in the Fall, Christmas in Prague, The Netherlands in Spring, Milan or Paris next summer. There was so much of the world he wanted to show him, so much he wanted them to experience together. He was determined to prove to Jared their future together would be better than their beginning.

Jensen walked down the gangplank and across the dock. Misha had gone ahead to meet the limo driver and Chris and Chad began unloading what little cargo they had. Mainly it was items Jensen purchased for Jared, though if everything went according to plan, Jared could throw it all in the ocean and still never want for anything.

He went into the office to talk to the harbormaster about getting someone to take care of the boat and watched Chad and Chris through the window as they carried bags to the waiting car. He was anxious to get everything settled so he could wake Jared and they could get on the plane home. Jared had requested they go see his grandmother. He didn’t know it yet but until the business with Pellegrino was settled, Jared and his grandmother would be taking an extended vacation to Switzerland or maybe the moon. Anywhere far away from him. 

Satisfied his boat would be taken care of, he made his way to the parking lot and walked in on chaos. Chad and Chris were on their knees, fingers laced behind their heads, while two men held them at gunpoint. Misha was flat on his stomach, arms bound behind his back, with a nasty gash on his forehead that was dripping blood down his cheek. The limo doors were open and the driver was slumped over the wheel with a gunshot to the back of his head.

And standing in the middle of it all was a perfectly coiffed Alona Tal holding a firearm that was pointed at Jensen’s chest.

“Jensen. Good of you to join us. Why don’t you throw your gun over here,” she said as she gestured to his shoulder holster.

“Do as she says,” Chad ordered before the guy holding him slapped him upside the head.

Hiding his shock, Jensen slowly removed his weapon and tossed it at her feet. “What’s going on here, Alona?”

Alona scowled and used the side of her expensive high heels to drag the gun closer to her. “Always so oblivious, Jensen. I’m cleaning up a mess you made like I always do.”

“You mind letting me in on what that mess is,” Jensen asked, careful not to upset her while he examined the area for more assailants. Aside from Alona and the two holding Chris and Chad, the parking lot was deserted. They were far enough away from the office that no one inside would see or hear what was going on. He couldn’t see the boat.

He was on his own.

“Why couldn’t you just die like you were supposed to,” she asked in lieu of answering. “I wouldn’t be out here in this sweltering heat looking at your shocked-dumb expression.” She was sweating through her blouse though he suspected it had more to do with the gun in her hand than the heat.

“Why was I supposed to die, Al,” he asked, using her nickname to remind her of their friendship. It was an obvious manipulation but he had few options. 

Her gun hand wavered slightly but she quickly regained her composure.

Once again ignoring his question, her tone changed from bitter to sincere, “I’m sorry about Jared. Drowning is an awful way to die. He deserved better. Unlike all of you, he was innocent.”

The words slammed into him like a fist. His eyes flashed to the harbor, then quickly refocused on her, trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“And you’ve come to finish the job,” Chris asked, interrupting Jensen before he could tell her that Jared was alive. “Is that it? Killing a college kid wasn’t enough, now you have to kill your friends?” 

Alona shook the gun at Chris. “You shut the hell up.” 

“That's why you're here though? Right? Kill us all? We...I was meant to die too, isn’t that right, Alona,” Chris asked, betrayed anger radiating off him, before he got kicked in the side.

“I said shut up,” she shouted, shaking her hand dangerously as she pointed the gun first at Chris, then Chad. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Did Chris and Chad tell her Jared was dead? He hated speaking about Jared in the past tense but he needed answers. “Why did Jared have to die, Al?”

“Isn’t it obvious? To give the police a reason why you vanish from the face of the earth,” she sneered. “You may have forced Jared to cover for you with that idiotic girlfriend of his but his grandmother won't be so easily fooled, especially once I tell her about your little obsession with him.”

“You told the police I kidnapped him,” he asked, though it was more of a statement.

“And admit I had knowledge of a crime I didn’t report? No Jensen, I’d rather not go to jail as your accomplice.”

“I don’t suppose you actually told them we were on vacation.”

She tossed her head back and laughed, “No, I really didn’t. As far as the police know, I haven’t heard from you in months. Right around the time your sweet Jared disappeared. And before you left your behavior was...how did I put it. ‘Erratic... obsessive...’? Something like that.”

“If you’ve already implicated me in his kidnapping, why kill him? Why kill me now?”

“Everyone needs a good scapegoat,” she said in a voice that was growing increasingly hysterical. “If those morons had done what they were paid to do, you'd all be gone and Heyerdahl would waste his time looking for a dead man.”

“Those morons were my friends, Alona. And you got them killed,” Chris spat. “Men who served with me. Men who trusted me.”

Alona’s eyes flashed to Chris and there was a brief instance of regret in them before it was quickly wiped away.

“Every war has its casualties, Chris. You of all people should know that.”

“Fuck you-you stupid bitch,” Chris shouted. The man holding him pulled Chris back by his hair and shoved the gun under his chin.

“One more word from you like that and I’ll ignore my orders to keep you alive,” the thug said.

Jensen tried to get the conversation back on track. “Why would Heyerdahl come looking for me? What is this all about, Al? I don't get it. Pellegrino has you ready to kill your friends all for some shit company that isn’t worth anything?”

She hiccupped a high pitch sound, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “You're so stupid, Jensen,” she sneered. “Pellegrino was using PSI to launder money for the Heyerdahl family and was skimming from the top. When his little human-trafficking ring got shut down, he was no longer able to cover the money he stole, and your ill-conceived takeover bid made it impossible to continue to hide what he was doing.”

Jensen felt his throat close around bile that threatened to rise. He’d been in the middle of an impending mob war and was too busy with Jared to notice. “Is that why he killed Henry Ross? Because he found out about the money laundering?”

“I killed Henry Ross. He stumbled upon Pellegrino’s operation and came to me in a panic, asked for help. He was going to go to the police.”

“And you put a bullet in his head.”

“Not before he sent whatever evidence he had to you. He wasn’t supposed to still be involved,” she said desperately. “I hired him to check into Pellegrino before I knew what he was. I told that stupid sonofabitch to let it go.”

He couldn’t tell if she felt more anger or remorse. Her gun hand wavered, veering from him to Chris and Chad. He couldn’t see Misha but was glad he stayed silent for once.

“That’s what they were looking for in my apartment? Proof Pellegrino was fucking over Heyerdahl?

“Yes. And they didn’t find it. Pellegrino thinks he must have sent it to Misha’s law firm but killing a bunch of high-profile lawyers and ransacking their offices would draw too much attention.”

Misha muttered something, probably a curse. 

Jensen took a cautious glance at the harbor, grateful beyond words that Jared was safely tucked away. For whatever reason, Alona believed Jared was dead. She had no reason to check his boat. He had to force himself to focus on her and set aside his nagging doubt that Jared was truly out of danger.

“But why, Alona? I don’t get it. Why do all of this? Were you that unhappy working for me that you got in bed with the mob?”

Alona’s whole body shook as she shouted, “He has my sister!”

He heard Chris suck in a breath.

“He has my sister, Jensen,” she cried. “He told me if I helped him she’d be ok. If not, he’d stick her on a cargo ship and sell her to the highest bidder. Do you have any idea what happens to girls like that? Girls who get sold into that meaningless euphemism “the sex trade”? They get raped again and again and again until their bodies wear out, then they’re murdered and dumped where no one will find the body.”

“Why didn’t you come to me? We would have helped you.”

“Like you’re so virtuous? Are you forgetting how you came to be with your sweet dead boyfriend? You're as bad as Pellegrino.”

“What about Chris? He could have helped you. That’s what his company does.”

“Don’t you think I tried that,” she shouted. “I asked for help in every possible way that wouldn’t get my sister killed. He had people watching me. Watching you. If there was even a hint that I went to someone for help, she’d be dead. She may already be dead.”

“How long have you known about Pellegrino and the money laundering?”

“About a week after you acquired the company. The accountants found inconsistencies and brought it to me. They didn’t link the money back to Pellegrino or Heyerdahl, or they’d be dead too. I asked Pellegrino about it and the next day my sister was kidnapped. She’s 15 years old, Jensen.” Just saying that seemed to drain her of energy and she dropped the gun to her side.

The conversation was wearing away at her resolve. He just had to keep her talking. “Why didn’t you kill me when I was in New York? You could have poisoned our take-out or pushed me down the stairs.”

“I needed to see how you'd react to the break-in. If you knew what they were looking for, you might have led me to where you hid it. When that didn't happen, Pellegrino assumed Ross sent it to one of them,” she said, motioning to Misha, Chris and Chad.

“Where does Alois Correa fit into all of this?”

She snorted and wiped sweat off her brow. “Pellegrino wanted to buy drugs to distribute in the US, hoping it would help cover his losses from PSI before Heyerdahl discovered the money was gone. Alois kept telling him to fuck himself. When he threatened to kill you if he didn’t agree, Alois shipped him the head of his lieutenant.”

It was a short-lived relief to know Alois had not betrayed him. He still needed to get her to put down the gun and disarm the two men holding Chad and Chris. He just had to keep appealing to the part of her that saw them as friends.

“So you kill all of us? Then what? I take the fall for Pellegrino stealing from Heyerdahl, and Pellegrino goes back to business as usual?”

“Not all of you.”

“What?”

“I don’t have to kill all of you. Just you. Pellegrino still needs to know where Henry Ross’ sent his info and he plans on torturing these three until he finds out.”

“That was what the men you sent to the island were supposed to do?”

“Yes, kill you and Jared and…” she began but couldn’t finish.

“...and torture us to death? Is that right?” Chris asked, which earned him another slap upside the head.

“Yes,” she replied softly. He realized she wasn’t wiping sweat from her brow but tears on her cheeks. It was the opportunity he needed.

“You don’t want to do this, Al, or you wouldn’t have stopped to explain yourself. Put the gun down and call off your dogs. We can help you. Let us help you. Please.”

“It’s too late for that,” she muttered. “Much too late for that.” She lifted the gun and aimed it at his chest. “My sister means more to me than you. I’m sorry, Jensen.”

The first shot ripped through Jensen’s side and the pain was instantaneous and blinding. Before he had a chance to fall, another bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, sending him crashing to his knees. He thought, _This is it. This is how I die._ A vision of Jared’s gentle smile blurred the stinging tears gathering in the corner of his eyes.

He waited for the next burst of pain when more shots sounded off but it never came. Instead, he looked up from his position on his knees to see Alona staring at her chest as blood began to blossom through her blouse.

Jensen turned his head to look behind him and saw a stunned Jared holding a gun still pointed in the direction of the woman he just killed.

It was just enough of a distraction that Chris and Chad were able to quickly and violently dispatch the men guarding them. Chris pulled a knife from his boot and jammed it into the thigh of the man on him, causing the man to drop his gun. Chris picked it up and fired directly into the man’s face, spraying the surrounding area in blood and brain matter. Chad flipped up to his feet, knocked the gun out of his assailant’s hands, and grabbed and twisted his head, snapping the man’s neck with sickening force. It all happened so fast that Jensen briefly considered that he was hallucinating.

Pain reminded him that what was happening was very real and he was quickly bleeding out. Chris ran over to Misha and used the bloody knife to slice through the bonds at his wrists.

“Get the first aid kit from my bag. NOW,” he shouted.

Misha struggled to stand and practically tripped over his feet getting to the luggage. He sifted through it until he found the right bag and brought Chris his kit.

Chris’ shout was enough to draw Jared’s attention away from Alona’s body. He cried out when he saw Jensen, dropped his weapon and ran to Jensen’s side.

“Oh god oh god. Jensen,” he cried as he ran his hands all over Jensen, getting them soaked with blood.

“Back off, Jared. If you want me to help him you have to back off,” Chris commanded, trying to sound soothing but coming off a little more frantic than he probably intended. 

Chris took his shirt off, folded it up and placed it over the wound on Jensen’s shoulder. Jensen howled in pain.

“Jared,” Chris snapped. “I need you to hold this here and keep pressure on it. Can you do that for me?”

Jared didn’t seem to hear him. “Jensen, oh god. Don’t do this to me,” he cried. “Not now. Not like this.” He lifted his bloody hand to wipe tears away and left a garish smear across his cheek. He still looked beautiful, Jensen thought.

“Dammit. Misha, come help me,” Chris barked. Chris opened the first aid kit and tore open several packages of bandages. He wadded up the largest and pressed it to Jensen’s side. The pain was so intense Jensen could barely breathe.

Misha pushed Jared out of the way, taking over applying pressure to his shoulder. Jared tried to place his hands over Misha’s but Misha elbowed him aside. “I’ve got this, Jared. You need to calm down and let us help him.”

“The bullet went clean through,” Chris said to himself. “I can’t tell if it nicked an organ.”

Jensen’s vision was blurring at the edges. He tried to focus on Jared’s voice but he sounded so far away.

“Please, Jensen. Don’t do this. I love you. Please, stay with me. I love you,” Jared pleaded. Jensen was too weak to reply.

Chris touched Jensen’s cheek, turning his head toward him. “Stay awake, Jensen. I need you to stay awake.” He stuck a needle into a small vile and extracted clear liquid, then stuck Jensen in the arm. Jensen didn’t feel the prick, but he was immediately flooded with warmth. Pain medication, he thought. It made him nauseous.

“Jensen, look at me,” Jared begged. “Stay awake. Look at me. I love you.” Jared was hovering over his head, bending to kiss his face, and getting in Chris’ and Misha’s way.

“He’s bleeding too much,” Misha said. “We don’t have time to take him to the safe house. He needs a hospital.”

Chris seemed to agree because he said to Chad, “Call Enrique. He’s in my contacts list. Tell him I need an ambulance and a doctor here now. He's going to need a lot blood. He’s O-. Tell him we'll pay whatever he wants. No cops. No questions.”

Chad pulled Chris’ phone from his bag and dialed the number. Jensen heard him arguing with someone as he stepped away. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute, before he returned. “They’re two minutes out. He said to keep him stable until then.”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing,” Chris shouted, more out of fear than real annoyance. 

Chad ignored it. “I need to deal with the harbormaster. Pay off or kill,” he asked.

Chris replied, “If one doesn't work, try the other.”

“We could also use a cleanup crew,” Misha added.

“Enrique will take care of it.”

Chris removed a soaked-through bandage and applied a new one. Jensen made a pained sound and Jared pushed further into Chris’ space trying to get closer to him.

“Back off, Jared,” Chris scolded. “I need room to work.”

When Jared didn’t move or respond, Chris called out to Chad. “Get him out of here.”

Jensen wanted to cry out, tell them that he needed Jared, but his mouth was dry and he felt so cold.

Chad slipped his hand in his pocket and extracted the syringe Jensen had seen earlier. Without warning, he plunged the syringe in Jared’s neck and Jared slumped back into his arms. Though he was a much larger man than Chad, he had no trouble dragging Jared away.

“No,” Jensen cried out hoarsely.

“Shhh, it’s ok, Jensen. I’ll make sure he’s ok. Just stay awake until the doctor gets here,” Chris soothed, though the end of his words sounded slurred. Jensen tried to keep his eyes open, tried to call out, but he felt too weighted down. The last thought he had before passing out was _Jared._


	31. Chapter 31

Jensen had been gone six months, two weeks, five days and thirteen hours, and Jared was still dealing with his shit. Take, for example, the smarmy man before him.

“I told you I don’t need anything else. I already accepted the money. What more do you want from me?”

Mark Sheppard, the lawyer Jensen had apparently hired to irritate Jared to death, grinned his irritating grin and spoke in his usual irritating voice. “Mr. Padalecki, when Mr. Ackles set up this trust, he had very specific instructions in how I am to help you manage it. He wanted to make sure you have everything you need and could possibly want. That includes the health and welfare of your grandmother, Mrs. Rose Padalecki.”

“You leave my grandmother out of this. I don’t want Jensen’s blood money anywhere near her.”

Sheppard smiled affably, something that must have fooled more than one jury, and continued on undeterred.

“The Mayo Clinic has the best neurological department in the country. Their research into Alzheimer's Disease is cutting edge. Their treatment program could add years to Mrs. Padalecki’s life and greatly increase its quality.”

They’d had conversations like this before. Jared would encounter a problem and Sheppard would magically appear, as if omniscient and tuned into Jared’s troubles, peddling the exact solution he needed. No matter how many times he told him to leave him alone, Sheppard would persist and Jared would end up caving.

The only time he refused his help was when Sheppard tried to get him to return to Stanford.

“I thought those programs had wait lists a mile long. And my grandmother isn’t even eligible. When I tried to get her in they told me her illness was too far advanced,” Jared replied.

“Yes, normally it would take some time but Mr. Ackles knew someone on their governing board. All it took was a phone call and a spot was opened up for her.”

‘Mr. Ackles’ always seemed to have known someone who could fix any problem Jared had, though how Sheppard was using the influence of a dead man was beyond him.

“This is a good thing, Jared. You take good care of her. You’ll just be getting a little help.”

Jared sighed in resignation. He knew he would accept the offer the instant Sheppard had mentioned it. It just felt right to argue. Why should he get special treatment when so many others suffered without any end in sight? He reached out and picked up the business card Sheppard had set on the coffee table between them.

“Just dial the number and tell them your name. Dr. Bloom will be waiting for your call.”

Jared nodded and leaned back against the couch. Like so much of everything else in his life, it was brand new and too expensive. Sometimes he struggled with all-consuming guilt for spending the money Jensen left him. Other times he spent it lavishly out of spite, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to spite.

“Have you given any thought to what we discussed last time,” Sheppard asked. “I spoke to the dean and he’s still very interested in having you return to classes.”

One of the first things Jared had done when Chad dumped him back in Palo Alto was drop out of school. He couldn’t see becoming a lawyer when he was guilty of murder. Every day that passed was one more he survived without having the police knock on his door with an arrest warrant. Although Alona Tal’s death was reported as a mugging gone wrong, something he knew only because it was on the news, he still felt ill every time he saw a cop car.

“I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not going back to school. Drop it already. I don’t know why you care so much. You’re employed by a dead man. Shouldn’t whatever retainer he paid be long spent?”

Every time Jared mentioned Jensen’s death, Sheppard would get a strange look and change the subject. It was just one more thing about the man that was irritating.

Sheppard gathered up his belongings, apparently done with pestering him for the day. “As I’ve said before, Mr. Ackles hired me to be your lawyer. Fees for my services are taken directly out of your trust fund.”

That was another sore spot for Jared. The trust fund.

When Chad drugged him and dragged him onto a flight back to the states, Jared assumed he’d never see any of them again. Aside from the obvious presence of bodyguards following him everywhere he went, only Misha had bothered to contact him. That was until Sheppard showed up at his door.

“What do you mean, Jensen left me money,” Jared had asked.

“Mr. Ackles arranged for a considerable sum to be deposited in a trust fund for you.”

The thought made Jared ill. Jensen had planned from the beginning to pay him off. All that talk of a future together was just that: talk.

“Shouldn’t all this be done at the reading of the will,” he had asked.

It was the first time Jared had seen that strange expression. It was hard to believe someone as greasy as Sheppard would feel grief for a client.

“This trust was set up separately from Mr. Ackles will.”

At first, Jared refused the money. Anytime Sheppard showed up at his grandmother’s house, where he was living since returning to the US, Jared would slam the door in his face. He would block every number he called from. Shred any documents he sent. It took two months of constant hounding before Jared would agree to even meet with him, then another month of emotional manipulation to get him to agree to take the money.

It all boiled down to his grandmother. If he took the money he could give her a better life, however little remaining of it there might be.

Jared returned his attention to the man who had become the bane of his existence and waved him off when he tried to shake his hand.

Sheppard took it in stride as he always did. “Good day, Mr. Padalecki. If you change your mind about returning to Stanford, or if there is anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call.” He gave a small bow before showing himself out.

Jared looked at the card in his hand and wondered what he would have done if it had been Jensen who made the offer. Probably not wait as long to accept it, he supposed.

His grandmother was napping again, which she did with increasing frequency, so Jared made himself busy by preparing dinner for when she woke.

He turned on the TV just for the noise. He needed the distraction because anytime he wasn’t focused on something else, he thought about Jensen. Jensen getting shot. Jensen bleeding out. Jensen’s glassy expression as Jared told him he loved him and begged him to live. Jared would rather watch Teletubbies than remember that.

He never heard from Chris or Chad but Misha called every once in a while. It was mostly to ask if he needed anything. Jared assumed it was one more way that gruesome little band of criminals tried to assuage their consciences, though he had his doubts that any of them ever felt guilty about kidnapping him. They were just doing their jobs.

Misha wouldn’t talk about what happened after Chad drugged him. He said everything had been “cleaned up” and Jared didn’t need to worry about any of it coming back to haunt him. What happened on the island and Puerto Rico was over, and Jared would do well to move on with his life. Jared’s response depended on whether he was depressed or angry, vacillating between shouting at Misha for an hour to simply hanging up on him.

Misha said he should see someone. A psychiatrist, psychologist, or hell, a psychic. It didn’t seem to matter. He was convinced all Jared needed was someone to talk to. He never once dared suggest Jared take drugs. Misha had learned that lesson at least.

Jared _had_ gone to a doctor. Several in fact. After dropping out of school he went to see his primary care physician to get tested for any and every bloodborne pathogen he could think of. He had swallowed the blood of two killers and no matter how many times he tried to tell himself he had nothing to worry about, all the tests came back fine, he’d find another doctor and have them run the tests again. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Maybe a reason for why he felt like he was dying inside.

He couldn’t go to a psychiatrist. What would he say? That he had PTSD and Stockholm Syndrome from being kidnapped and murdering a woman? That he was still in love with his captor and dreamt of little else but their one time together? They’d lock him up or drug him into a stupor. Probably call the police. But what for? Being the victim of a crime or the perpetrator?

When he didn’t dream of Jensen, he dreamt of Alona. What he knew about her came from the brief mention of her on the news - Misha refused to talk about her - and the little piece written about her on Jensen’s corporate website. The article said the usual. She was kind, loved by everybody, great at her job. She had a little sister who she had guardianship over that was taken in by a distant relative. There was a picture of the girl at the funeral looking worn out and grim, exactly how Jared imagined a teenage girl would look like after being held by a mobster. At least Jensen’s men had rescued her. That offered a little solace.

Misha wouldn't talk about the sister either.

When Jared woke up alone on the boat, he had assumed everyone was up on deck. After dressing and clipping the gun to his belt, he went up top and was surprised to find the ship anchored to a dock. He looked around but couldn’t see anyone, though he heard shouting coming from a parking lot.

He didn’t expect to find Jensen on the business end of a gun being ranted at by a woman in clear distress. And what happened after, Jensen getting shot, him shooting Alona, was mostly a blur. Although Chad must have cleaned up him while he was knocked out, he still had Jensen’s blood under his fingernails when he arrived home. Just like he did when he was nearly drowned, he washed his hands again and again until his skin cracked and peeled.

He turned the oven on to preheat and took the chicken out of the refrigerator. He was getting better at preparing meals that didn’t upset his grandmother’s delicate stomach. When the news came on, he barely registered what was being said until he heard a familiar name. He dropped what he was doing and reached for the remote, rewinding his DVR.

_A light aircraft crashed today off the coast of New England. Aboard the plane was businessman Mark Pellegrino, who was in the news recently for his alleged connection to a human trafficking ring. Although he was never formally charged, rumors of his involvement caused him to lose controlling interest in PSI, the shipping company at the center of the controversy. His death marks the second high profile death in the business world this year. Alona Tal, de facto CEO of Ackles Corp, died in an apparent mugging while she was vacationing in Puerto Rico. No arrests have been made in that incident._

__

__

_No details have been forthcoming about the cause of the crash but FTA investigators tell CNN reporter, Kyle Erikson, the plane radioed in shortly before the crash to say they were having electrical problems. Rescuers are still looking for the craft, hoping the black box will tell them more. Also on board the aircraft were Carlos Sanchez, Matt Cohen, and pilot Mason Gray. All are presumed dead._

Jared rewound the DVR and played it again.

All on board are _presumed dead._

“That sonofabitch.”

Though no one could fault him for being too upset and distracted to look further into what happened after he left Puerto Rico, he still felt like a fool. It was staring right in front of him the whole time.

He grabbed his phone and dialed Misha.

Misha answered on the first ring. “Jared? Is everything ok?”

Jared supposed that it was a reasonable response to his calling as he’d never called before.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

“Where is who, Jared,” Misha asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“Jensen, Misha. Where is Jensen?”

“Jared,” Misha said in a tone so pitying that Jared would punch him in the face if they were in the same room. “I told you. Jensen is gone.”

Jared was so angry he felt dizzy. “That’s right. That’s what you told me. That’s what Chad told me. That’s what Chris told me. But do you know what none of you have ever said? Not once? You’ve never said he was dead.”

The damning silence that followed fueled Jared’s rage. He had to stop himself from throwing the phone across the room. “Where. Is. He?”

There was a moment while he waited for Misha’s answer that Jared entertained the idea that he had gone mad. That his longing and wishing for Jensen to be alive was making him see things that weren’t there.

But the evidence was clear. From Misha’s vague answers about what happened to Jensen’s body, to what wasn’t in the news, and in the way that goddamn lawyer evaded every attempt Jared made to talk about Jensen’s death. At no point did anyone ever say Jensen was dead. There wasn’t even a patronizing little blip about him on Jensen’s corporate website. Nothing. It was as if he vanished from the face of the earth and nobody noticed. Jared had just assumed.

It was exactly what Alona had said Pellegrino wanted, and because he didn’t want to look too closely at what it meant that Jensen was gone, he had just accepted that that was exactly what happened. Alona had killed Jensen and his psychotic friends covered it up.

Finally, Misha gave in. “He’s at his flat in London.”

The admission knocked Jared off his feet. He fell back into a kitchen chair and stared vacantly at a bouquet of roses he’d bought his grandmother the day before. He always got her red ones because that’s what his grandfather bought her and it made her happy to have the reminder. Now, they looked like blood. 

He was flooded with endorphins; a sickening combination of relief and dread that had his body vibrating. He felt light-headed.

“That stupid, evil, sadistic sonofabitch.”

“Jared,” Misha began but Jared quickly cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to hear any excuses. You bastards have lied to me for months. For months I’ve been wallowing in guilt and grief and you’ve known where he was the entire time.”

“There were extenuating circumstances. Jensen couldn’t…”

Again, Jared cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. I’m done. You all have manipulated me long enough. It’s my turn.”

Misha knew when to quit because he remained silent while Jared formulated a plan.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to do exactly what I tell you to do or I’m walking into the nearest police station and telling them about all the interesting people I met on my summer vacation.”

Misha stayed silent long enough that Jared thought he might call his bluff and refuse to help. He wouldn’t really go to the police but that didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to apply pressure.

Finally, after a tense silence Misha asked, “What do you want me to do?”


	32. Chapter 32

He was flying. Consumed by heat and melting deep into the earth, his skin was livewire tight and hot. And he ached. Every inch of his body was on fire, yet he felt weightless, formless. He felt dangerous and alive. 

And he knew that something was very wrong.

A thought, like a word on the tip of his tongue, nagged at him. There was something he needed to know, something just out of reach. Something right in front of him that he could not see. Were his eyes opened or closed? Had he gone blind?

The heat was everywhere and relentless. He wanted. He desired.

A sound in the periphery of his consciousness called to him. Was someone singing? Was someone saying his name? He wasn’t sure what his name was but he knew he had one once. 

Before.

Jared. That’s a name. One that roiled and pooled and stretched over his skin like warm milk and honey. It was a name that made him laugh and weep and fling himself into the sun.

“Jared,” he whispered.

He thought he heard trees talking, or maybe it was a voice; both familiar and foreign, it spoke of a great gaping chasm. It spoke of longing and suffering and death.

“Jared,” he whispered again, and he was certain this time the sounds he heard had meaning. Words? A giant gash in the earth, fields razed and salted, something he wanted to forget and would if he could only remember.

“Jensen,” the voice said. A voice, that’s what it was, he was certain. “Say it again, Jensen. What’s my name?”

This he remembered.

_Oh god._

_No._

“Jared,” he breathed. _No!_ The bird he freed from its cage had come home.

Panic punched the air from his lungs. “Run,” he pleaded. “Go before I hurt you.”

There was a laughing sound, an old oak being split in half by lightning, and Jensen thought he felt fingers moving through his hair.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?”

Fever. Maybe it was the fever again. And pain. Always pain. Bright hot and blinding.

“I died,” he said.

The voice sighed, a cold and violent gust of a sound. It made him want to cover up and hide. It made him want to travel back in time and kill his ancestors so he could never be born.

“No, Jensen. You are very much alive. A fact for which I am both grateful and furious.”

Something about that made him think of blood. What happened to all the blood?

“It won’t take as long for the drug to burn through your system. I didn’t give you as much as you gave me.”

Drug? Was he back in the bed, hooked up to wires, tubes and machines, praying for death?

No. Bound to a bed and blindfolded. Needy. Desperate. A memory in reverse. Something about a demon or a god.

Oh.

Goddess.

“Misha told me about the nerve damage in your shoulder, so I didn’t have him tie up both your arms. You don’t get the full experience this way but it’s close enough. Terrifying, isn’t it? Beneath that all-consuming arousal, I was terrified.”

Misha? Dinner. A bottle of wine. Misha apologizing before the ground fell out from beneath him.

Yes. Terrifying. 

What did that mean?

“It means I’m very mad at you and probably acted a bit rashly. You’ll sober up soon enough and we can talk.”

A feathering of fingers danced over his sensitive skin. He tried to lean into the touch but couldn’t move.

Then silence. Then a sound. Something wounded and hurting. 

“I didn’t think about the scars. Of course you’d have scars.”

Scars. Yes. And pain.

“I'm burning,” he said, although he didn't think that was the right word.

He tried again, “ I need.”

“Yes, I remember that too. It feels like dying of thirst. Nothing I do will help, I’m afraid.”

“Touch me, please,” he begged.

“I’m here. I’m touching you, Jensen. You’re the one who went away.”

“I died.”

“Yes. That's what I thought. What you let me believe.”

There was anger in the sound, thunder clouds gathering in the distance and approaching fast. He tried to make sense of what it all meant but he couldn’t see passed the want consuming him. He wanted to encourage the voice to speak again, wanted to hear _him_ say his name. 

Like before.

_Jared, what’s my name? If you say my name I’ll let you come._

The fingers combing through his hair went away and he instantly missed them.

“Come back,” he begged.

Again a painful sigh. “Not until I’ve had a very large drink. I’m not sure why you found seeing me like this enjoyable, or why I thought this was a good idea. I'm just so angry with you.”

The blindfold was untied and he felt lips touch his forehead as he blinked the world back into focus. Then he was alone. And he burned.

He wanted to take himself in hand, grip tight and chase his release. He knew he could come if only the voice returned and put its hands on him. _His_ hands. Only ever him.

Jared.

The name he wouldn't let anyone say to him.

The drug burned through his system quickly but Jared stayed away. 

He had nothing to do but listen to his labored breathing and tire himself out struggling against his bonds. Still desperate for relief, Jensen took his cock into his free hand but lacked the strength to do more than aggravate his need. He turned his head towards the window and watched the rain pour down. Another gray day in London. So far away from the bright sunny island.

London. Home now. Not that there was such a thing without Jared. And now Jared was back and he had no idea what he'd say. His eyes were damp with frustration by the time he heard the door open and saw Jared standing in the frame.

“Do you know who I am now?” Jared asked. He didn’t sound amused or satisfied. He sounded guilty, which was the furthest thing from the truth.

“I always know you.” 

Jared hummed, then slowly approached the bed. “I can’t believe Misha let me do this.”

“He probably thought I deserved it.”

“No one deserves this,” he said softly.

The feeling of relief when Jared untied him took his breath away. He’d done this again and again to Jared for months. He didn’t think he could hate himself more. He was wrong.

He slowly sat up and took the bottle of water Jared held out to him. “How did you get him to agree?” 

“I threatened to go to the police.”

Jensen huffed a laugh that turned into a cough. He took a big swallow of water before he spoke. “That would do it. He's had enough trouble trying to clean up my mess as it is.”

Jared sat on the bed next to him, pulling up the comforter around Jensen’s shoulders. He hadn't realized he was shivering. “And covering up the murder I committed,” he added sadly. 

“You didn't murder her. It was self-defense. You saved my life. You saved all our lives.”

“Saved you? I didn’t save you. Until yesterday, I thought I killed her for nothing. I shot that woman and I still lost you.”

Jensen took a good look at him. He sounded so hurt and resigned, so unlike the fiery man he met all those months ago that Jensen hardly recognized him. He refused anything more than the most cursory of updates about Jared's well-being. Seeing him now, his thin frame, dark circles under his eyes, and haunted expression, Jensen realized he didn't do enough to erase himself from Jared's life. He wondered if should have even tried.

“Why, Jensen? Why tell me we had a future together and let me think you died. I watched you get shot and bleed out. I thought... I've mourned for you,” he choked out, his voice catching on a sob.

Jensen set the water bottle on the nightstand and grabbed Jared's hand. He laced their fingers together and raised their joined hands to his lips. His kiss was reverent. He missed being near him so much that it hurt to have him close now.

“I died,” he said finally.

Jared wiped his damp cheeks with his free hand. “You let me believe that.”

“No, I actually died.”

Jared looked up sharply. 

“I flatlined for about 90 seconds. I was taken to a clinic, not a hospital, and they weren't equipped to stabilize me. Misha said they worked on me for an hour before the doctor gave up and had me admitted to the hospital. I needed several surgeries, so it would have happened anyway, but it made keeping the police out of it impossible.”

“Why aren't we all in jail?”

“I paid off a lot of people.”

Jared grimaced but didn't comment.

“After I was stable,” he continued, “I had surgery to remove the bullet from my shoulder and another to repair damage to my intestines but there were complications. I got an infection and ended up in a coma for a week. The doctors didn't expect me to make it.”

Instead of the concern or sympathy he expected Jared to display, Jared abruptly dropped his hand, stood up and turned on him, his expression fierce and angry. 

“Don't you think I would have wanted to be there? After everything? That I would have wanted to know what you were going through? Your friends dumped me in California and vanished like nothing ever happened!”

“I didn’t know,” he interrupted. Jared raised an incredulous eyebrow. Jensen continued on. “I didn’t know they let you believe I was dead until weeks later. I was so sick, barely coherent, but I asked for you every time I woke up. I wanted you there. Believe me, I didn’t know.”

“And after you got better? What’s your excuse for letting me believe for 6 months that you were dead? Don’t try to blame this on your friends. You may not have known they lied to me at first, but you made the choice to make the lie permanent. That was all on you.”

Jensen was suddenly so tired he felt like he would never get up from the bed. He had to force himself to answer and when he did, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. “I have no excuse. I’m not sure I even know how to explain it.”

“Try.”

“Do you know what I thought about when they told me I almost died? That I didn’t really have a life I cared about losing. Besides you... before you, I thought I loved my life but it turned out I’m just ashamed of it. I’m ashamed of the things I’ve done and the person I’ve been. That’s a bitter pill to swallow.”

“You had me. Don’t I count for something?”

“Of course. But look what I did to you,” he said and gestured to his nude body. “I did this to you. Over and over and deluded myself into thinking you were actually _enjoying_ it because I made you come. What kind of sick fuck would believe that? You may be the only good thing in my life but I’m a plague in yours.”

Jared went to respond but Jensen held up his hand to stop him. “It’s not just what I've done to you. I turned my back on my friends, forced them to help me aid and abet in a kidnapping, cover up multiple homicides, ignored their warnings about Pellegrino and Alona. If I had listened maybe I could have helped her… I wasn’t just hiding from you. I’ve been hiding from everything...but mostly myself.”

“I’m not sure what you’re going for here, Jensen. Are you trying to tell me to be angry with you or feel sorry for you?”

“No! I don't know. I want to make you understand but I'm not sure _I_ do. I saw a chance to give you your freedom, completely, and I took it. Believe me when I say I've regretted it every second since.”

“So you thought you’d absolve yourself by paying me off? Do you really think I’m that shallow that I’d forget about you or say all’s forgiven because you gave me money?”

“That wasn't what I was trying to do.”

“What were you trying to do besides piss me off?”

Jensen tried to stand and get dressed but found he was still too dizzy from the drug. When Jared made no move to help him, he collapsed back on to the bed and put his face in this hands. It took tremendous effort to look up.

“I was trying to right a very old wrong.”

“What does that mean, Jensen?”

“I wanted to give back some of what I took from you. Not just what I've done over the last year but before, with your family’s company. If I had helped your grandfather the way I promised, you and your grandmother would never have lost everything. You would have inherited a generations-old company and had the money to do anything you wanted. I can't undo the things I've done but I had to try to make something right.”

Jared seemed to accept that because the anger went out of him and he wandered over to the chair by the door and dropped into it. Jensen wished he had returned to sit by him on the bed but understood his need for distance. He never thought they'd be in the same room again, so getting to see him at all was enough. Even looking worn out and exhausted, Jared was still the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

After what felt like an eternity, Jared spoke. “Do you remember what you said to me when I asked you if you were going to kill me?”

Jensen winced and nodded his head.

“You said you were going to do something far worse than that. You were going to make me fall in love with you.”

“I remember.”

“Well, you got what you wanted.”

“I don't remember much after she shot me but I remember you saying that. It was a memory that got me through some pretty terrible times.”

They sat in silence after that, the sound of the rain the only thing that could drown out all the things they couldn't say. After a while, the strain on Jensen's muscles from the rope and the remnant of the drug began to wear him down, and he eventually lay back on the bed and pulled the comforter over him. He forced his eyes to remain open just so he could look his fill at the man he loved more than anything in the world.

Jared had his face turned to the window but, sensing Jensen's eyes on him, looked over and gave Jensen a brief smile. “I really did miss you,” he confessed.

“I missed you, too,” Jensen replied.

“I feel like I should be yelling more or throwing things but I'm so relieved you're alive that all I want to do is crawl in bed with you and never leave this room.”

“Why don't you?”

“Because if I give any more of myself to you and you leave me again, I won't survive.”

“I know you won't be able to believe this now, but if you'll have me, I promise to never leave or hurt you again.”

“You can't make promises like that, Jensen. You'll hurt me and I'll hurt you...it's only a matter of degrees that's up for debate. I'm pretty sure you won't drug me and kidnap me again, but that doesn't mean you won't lie to me for what you think is my own good. I can't handle that. Not after everything.”

“I won't lie…”

“Don't say that,” Jared shouted. “I forgave you, lied to the police for you, fell in love with you...I killed for you...and you lied to me for months. You let me believe…”

Jensen tried to sit up but lost his balance and nearly fell to the floor. Jared was there instantly, helping him back into bed. 

“I'm sorry. I get easily light-headed now.”

“Plus I drugged you.”

“You didn't know…”

Jared sat on the bed and began to take his shoes off. “I saw you get shot multiple times. I watched you bleeding out and losing consciousness. I should have known better.”

Once his shoes were off, he walked around to the other side of the bed and got in. He curled up around Jensen who put his arm around him and kissed his brow.

“I missed you so much,” Jared whispered.

“I'm sorry. You're right. I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go but I think I was just afraid to lose your love for me once we returned back to the world. That would have been worse than death.”

“So you got to keep me by letting me go and watching me mourn for you.”

“I suppose.”

“Were you ever going to tell me? You must have known I would find out eventually.”

“I think I've been hoping you would. I've been able to work remotely, but my excuses for not coming to New York were running out. I had this fantasy of you meeting at the airport…”

“I'm guessing your fantasy didn't end with you drugged and bound to a bed?”

Jensen gave a sardonic smile but couldn't muster up a laugh. “No. And I'm going to punch my friend who gave me that drug in the face the next time I see him. It does make you hallucinate.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Yeah, I remember the monkeys.”

“Monkeys?”

“Just something you talked about... prostitute monkeys.”

Jared's whole body shook with laughter, the sensation a balm to Jensen's anxious mind. He knew he'd do whatever it took to work this out. Hearing Jared laugh gave him hope.

Jared's laughter morphed into tears and all at once he was clutching Jensen tight to him. “You're alive. Oh my God. You're really alive.”

Jensen tightened his grip and pulled Jared's denim covered legs between his naked bowed ones. “I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I love you.”

“I love you too but if you ever pull some self-sacrificing stunt like pretending to be dead or leaving me for my own good again, being drugged and tied to a bed will be the least of your concerns. I'll strip you naked, stake you out on the ground, and feed you to Texas fire ants.”

Jensen laughed. “I won't. I promise. I'm here with you now. If you'll have me, I'm yours.”

“Damn right you are. Now I want to talk about where we're going to live.”


	33. Chapter 33

Riding Jensen’s cock had become one of Jared’s favorite things to do. When they settled on buying a house in Austin, a compromise that made the flight to New York and California shorter for both of them, they’d christened each room with a new position and flavored lube. Jared was partial to coffee but Jensen liked to mix it up. When Jensen licked him open that evening, he used cinnamon and vanilla.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Jensen moaned.

“You just like my outfit.”

After they returned from the benefit, Jensen insisted Jared keep his bowtie on. He felt a little foolish with what looked like a red collar, but if the flush on Jensen’s cheeks and gleam in his eyes meant anything, they’d be adding to their toy chest.

“I do. So fucking hot. Looked so good in your tux tonight,” Jensen panted. “Everyone wanted to eat you up.”

“I’m sure your hand on my lower back and you not stepping more than a foot away from me all night deterred any would-be suitor. You were just short of growling.”

“Hmmm,” he grumped. “They shouldn’t have even looked. Fuck, do that again.”

Jared rotated his hips and bore down harder, feeling impossibly full and hot.

“Did you have to tell him we met during a tropical vacation?”

Jensen’s laugh was hearty and guiltless. “You love it. Every time I tell it you get more magical and I’m just some poor soul you lured in with your luscious lips.”

Jared leaned down and bit Jensen’s luscious lips. “Be nice or I’ll come and leave you to fend for yourself.”

“Oww,” Jensen complained. “Be gentle. I’m fragile, remember.”

“Sure you are. So fragile you got seduced by my, how did you describe it, “by his charm, wit, heavenly smile...and his body’s not so bad either?” He squeezed his inner muscles, causing Jensen to groan. “Not so bad, huh?”

“You’re a god and I’m humbled by your ethereal beauty.”

Jared laughed. “God, you’re corny.”

He picked up the pace, slamming down and angling his hips to get the right pressure on his prostate. He'd already come once and was quickly closing in on another.

“You gonna come just on my cock? I know how much you love it,” Jensen purred.

“I'm close… I'm gonna…” Pleasure flooded his system as his orgasm washed over him. Jensen grabbed his hips and fucked up into him as the shockwaves racked his body. He felt Jensen come inside of him and he bent down to capture the moan on Jensen's lips before collapsing onto his chest.

The lay their listening to one another catch their breath, then Jared gently lifted up and Jensen's spent cock slipped out of him.

Gracelessly falling next to Jensen, he waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom. “You're on cleanup.”

Jensen chuckled but didn't move. “No, stop. I can't handle all this afterglow romance you got going.”

“Romance comes after you clean up your come that's leaking from my ass.”

Jensen seemed to debate whether he wanted to get up, then swiped his hand through the come cooling on his stomach. “Yes, you're right. Clean first, romance second.”

Jared smiled and rubbed his sweaty forehead on his pillow case. “I'm always right.”

Jensen got up and went to the bathroom, rummaging around as he looked for a towel and let the water heat up. The house they bought was old with old plumbing, and they hadn't been able to get someone in to replace the pipes before they moved in. It meant a lot of wasted cold water and short showers. Jared insisted they collect the water to use in the garden, so the house had buckets for water everywhere. It was a far cry from the luxurious penthouse in New York, or even the renovated California Bungalow in Palo Alto, but it was charming and unique, and big enough to start a family.

Jensen came out a few minutes later with a wet washcloth and dry towel. He quickly cleaned them up, then dumped the soiled linens in the laundry bin.

“Thinking about the baby's room again,” Jensen asked as he got into bed and pulled Jared to him.

“Yes. How can you tell?”

“You get this little smile...your dimples come out more...I don't know. You look happy.”

Jared peppered Jensen's chest with kisses. “I am happy.”

“And you want a baby?”

“Maybe? I'd like a child with you. I know you want me to go back to school, but my heart isn't in it anymore. I can easily finish my degree online and decide what kind of career I want later.”

“But you'd like a family now.”

“I think so. With Grandma doing better, it would be nice to have an addition to the family. If she ends up living with us, the child would get to know her. She's a wonderful woman. I want to give our children that opportunity if we can.”

Jensen smiled and bent to kiss Jared softly. He was weirdly affectionate when they talked about children. Not that he wasn't always generous with affection. It just seemed like kids brought out a soft side.

“You know a baby probably wouldn't remember much about her, though I agree having a full house with family would be wonderful,” Jensen said.

“About that… I was thinking. Maybe we don't get a baby. I know you've been looking into surrogacy, but what if we got an older child?”

“I thought you said you wanted babies made from you and me? One with my green eyes, one with your good hair.”

Jared lightly socked him in the stomach and Jensen oofed.

“I said no such thing about my hair.”

“Ok, your long legs then.”

Jared nibbled Jensen's nipples, and Jensen got the message to stop joking around.

“I want that too. I just think there are a lot of kids out there who need parents. Kids in foster care who won't be adopted because they're 'too old’ or have emotional problems. We have the means to help them, give them a good home and get them the medical or psychiatric care they need. I think we can do both. I told you I want a dozen kids.”

Jensen was quite for so long Jared wondered if bringing up foster care was a terrible mistake. Jensen still didn't talk about it much. Jared tried everything he could think of to find pictures of him as a kid, but Jensen was right. People didn't take pictures of foster care children. He knew he couldn't undo the hurt from the past but believed they could fill albums worth of pictures in their future.

Finally Jensen spoke. “You are the best person I have ever met and I am beyond lucky and grateful to have you in my life.” 

That was unexpected. Jared blushed and smiled. “So that's a yes?”

“I've told you before, you can have everything and anything that's within my power to give you. I'd love to raise a dozen or two dozen kids with you, adopted or otherwise.”

Jared crawled on top of him again and kissed his face all over until Jensen was laughing. He flipped them over, reversing their positions and caught Jared's lips in a slow, sweet kiss. “Marry me,” he whispered.

“I did. About a year ago.”

Jensen lifted Jared's wedding ring finger to his lips and kissed it. “Well, that's good then.”

They're life wasn't perfect. He still had nightmares about the shooting. Jensen still had problems with pain and needed physical therapy. They still had the debt to Heyerdahl to pay for killing Pellegrino, though Jensen refused to tell Jared what that was. Jared was still followed around by a bodyguard, a precaution Chris and Chad insisted upon. Misha kept his distance for the first year, more afraid that Jared would lose his temper and go to the police like he threatened than out of respect for their privacy. But eventually he started to come around, and the five of them had a few BBQS and watched football together.

It wasn't perfect but they were happy. They were together.

If someone had told Jared that he'd end up married to the handsome man he saw in his grandfather's office all those years ago, or everything they'd have to go through to get here, he would have called them insane. He still sometimes has trouble believing he married his kidnapper. In moments of doubt, he seeks out Jensen and asked him to tell him all the reasons why their relationship works.

Jensen always begins and ends with the same sentence. “Who else would be this crazy?”

It always makes them laugh and sometimes that's all they need.

It's a good life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! I can't believe it's taken me so long to finish this but I am proud that I did. As the good Lord Chuck says, writing is hard.  
> This didn't turn out exactly how I hoped, and I will get a beta for future projects, but I'm so happy I actually finished it. 
> 
> I am beyond grateful to everyone who took the time to leave kudos and comments. Your feedback and encouragement kept me going during times I seriously debated deleting this. Thank you thank you thank you.
> 
> Until next time!


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